


Almost Normal

by Hardtoknow



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardtoknow/pseuds/Hardtoknow
Summary: You're just trying to enjoy a night out with friends during a film festival, but you end up getting in your own way when it concerns a certain stranger.





	1. An Ordinary Moment

“Come on y/n! This was your idea and if we wait any longer, we’re going to hit traffic!” Casey was shouting at you to hurry again and you certainly couldn’t blame her.

It was your idea, and you had no clue why it was taking you so long to get ready when you’d been thinking about this trip for the last few months at least. Maybe it was the sense that something, _something big,_ would be happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling, and it often led to a rabbit hole you were only too happy to fall down. Thus, a seemingly endless cycle of delays perpetuated itself until this very moment, of you holding a green and white sweater over your open bag, just staring at it and fingering the label.

Some people are music people, they go to concerts, festivals, have an iTunes is packed with the oldies, the goodies, and every definitive bop since before they were born. Others are book people, they have their own personal libraries, actually read all the books you’ve only made it halfway through, have sparkling insights into literary motifs and stylistic evolutions of authors and movements, and always with a book nearby. There are outdoorsy people, fashion people, art people, gamers, even craft beer people. You are a movie person. Or, as you’d prefer to put it, a film person, because there is a difference. You have literally hundreds of them both, from silent to present day, every category, every genre, black and white, technicolor, foreign, domestic, artistic impressionist films and dick-joke-bro-humor movies. You live your life quoting lines from your favorites, the ones everyone knows, and others no one does and it’s just for you.

And this weekend you were going to yet another film festival. This time one of the bigger ones: Toronto International Film Festival. Somehow, you’d managed to drag along a few friends you’d made since moving to The Middle of Nowhere, Midwest, USA. You keep telling yourself the job is worth it over and over again until it almost feels true. At least the four-day work weeks are a nice perk. Honestly, it’s something you’d always wanted to do, and this was one of the few places you could actually advance; so, you packed up your life, said goodbye to friends, family, a boyfriend who couldn’t be bothered, and moved. Good news is you’re closer to TIFF in both time and space and really should be rushing a little bit more than you are. You shove the sweater in your bag and meet Casey by your door.

“Sorry, just had to make sure I had everything” you eke out as Casey rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll only be gone a couple days and sitting in the dark for most of it! It’s not like anyone is going to care what we look like.” Casey sighs back as if she’s been completely exhausted by the 6-minute wait.

“Oh yeah, says the person bringing four bags, one filled just with shoes, and the other just with makeup!” A man’s voice from down the hall shoots back. “Anyway y/n has the snacks, and that’s the most important thing in any road trip, right?” You arch your eyebrow at Casey as she relents and picks up a bag of snack food, thankful that Dakota neutralized the situation.

It’s not that you and Casey don’t always get on, it’s just that Casey can be a bit much at times. Let’s just say her excessive nature wasn’t restricted to her packing habits. She basically invited herself on the trip when you had mentioned you were going to TIFF. It’s not a bad thing, her energy usually brings you up and pushes you out of your shell. Dakota on the other hand is easy going, “go with the flow” personified. He has an uncanny ability of finding a path of least resistance (i.e. conflict, drama, passive aggression, etc.), and guiding everyone down it. As far as road trip companions go, it’s not a bad pair to be stuck in a car with for hours on end.

By the time you hit the road Casey has commandeered the aux cord from the back seat. Neither you nor Dakota care as much about the music as she does. You watch Casey thumb through her phone intently until the music starts, realizing she has compiled a playlist specifically for this trip is the kind of hilarious over the top thing that has all three of you jamming, laughing and singing along as the landscape rushes by your window.

—

It’s already dark when you reach the hotel, thanks in part to grabbing a quick dinner before getting to the city, but it came at a price: A promise to Casey that you’d all go out. Something you’re not altogether convince you’ll enjoy. Casey assured you she’d take of everything and that’s what has you worried, it’s either going to be a great night out or the beginning of an awkward weekend with your coworkers. 

After checking in, and thankfully getting separate rooms, the three of you head toward the elevator, “So what do you reckon, half an hour?” Dakota posits, looking directly at Casey.

“Umm, yeah, I guess I could make that work.” She says as she rolls each of her bags into the elevator. “What floor are you guys on?” She asks after pushing the four.

“I’m on 7.” Dakota says as Casey pushes the button.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Y/n what’s the absolute latest we have wake up tomorrow?”

You can tell Casey is already planning an intense night out, and your stomach is already folding over on itself.

“I guess that depends on whether or not you want to see anything on our general passes before the bigger film we’re supposed to see in the afternoon.”

“It’s going to be a 'not' from me. So anyway, about tonight: I’ve already picked out a few spots. We’re going to dance and drink and act like we’re fresh out of undergrad, not boring nine-to-fivers!” She’s half begging you and half hyping you up.

You smile, not ready, or rather too sober to commit to what Casey has in mind. You’re not a big partier anymore, but what’s the harm? And who knows when you’ll be able to let loose like this again?

As soon as the doors close after Casey gets off you look pointedly at Dakota, “Half an hour? You think she’s going to be ready in half an hour?”

“Oh God, no! I’m thinking an hour minimum. I just said that- “

“Ahhh, I see.”“I’m just going to change and then head to the bar here while I wait if you want to join?”“Sure,_ I’ll _be there in half an hour.”

To anyone who didn’t know better that would have seemed like Dakota was interested in you, but you did know better. He’s like a brother to you, the only family you have since moving. Although when you first met, you’d be kidding yourself if you said you hadn’t wondered if there might be anything more between you, he’s everything you’d ever want in a boyfriend, apart from him also wanting a boyfriend.

You both leave the elevator and walk in opposite directions towards your rooms. You let out a sigh of relief and drop you bag on one of the two queens in your room before the door closes behind you. Sure, you could have split with Casey or Dakota, it certainly would have been cheaper. But you can’t put a price on the silence or stillness that welcomes you. You like people, just not all the time. You need your space and you just spent five hours in a car with Casey and Dakota, another 40 hours in a hotel room and things were bound to get tense. No, it’s definitely better this way.

You’re doing it again. Rabbit-holing. You’ve just been standing looking at your bag for what? Ten minutes? One of these days you won’t get sucked into your thoughts at every opportunity. You look through your bag, something has got to work for a night out. You hadn’t completely planned on it, but also knew it’d been a possibility since Casey was coming along. There’s a black tank top that has an open back and scalloped edges that you’re partial to. Or that sweater. No not a sweater. ‘Going out’ means dancing, dancing means sweating, and the last thing you want is to be dripping because you wore a sweater. There’s also your favorite red box shirt. It’s, obviously, box-y, but it’s also half-cropped and a bright color. Casey would probably approve. If not, she’ll march her way right back here with you and make you change into something you had no idea you’d packed. So, it’s decided: red top, black cigarette pants and your black wedges. You can’t be bothered with your hair, but a little eyeliner never hurt anyone, right? A little mascara? Sure. Nothing too intense, Casey will have all those bases covered, but you put on just enough, so it doesn’t look like you fell out of a car after five hours. Then again, who wears wedges in a car for five hours? Stop it! You’re rabbit-holing.

Only 23 minutes later you spot Dakota in the hotel bar and slide onto the stool beside him. He’s changed into a dress shirt and damn it if you don’t find a man in a dress shirt hot as hell.

“Hey you, what are you drinking?” You make a mental guess, scotch, maybe?

“Just whisky,” close enough, “You look really good. I didn’t know you owned color.”

“Oh, ha ha ha” you mock as you lightly slap his shoulder.

“Seriously, you do. What do you want? This one’s on me.” He motions to the bartender.

“Oooh, why thank you! G&T, please.”

The bartender brings you your drink and you nurse it while talking over the lineup of films you want to see with Dakota. Unlike Casey, you two intend to use your general pass. Eventually you move back to the lobby to wait for Casey, who, almost like clockwork, shows up half an hour after you’d planned on meeting. Of course her outfit is great, and those shoes are the kind you’d love to wear if you could wear heels at all.

“Ugh, so sorry you guys, I just couldn’t decide on anything. Anyway, I got us a car, are you ready?”

You had been expecting Casey to pick out a club a bit more like a rave and a lot less like a cocktail lounge, but you’re all for a much more low-key venue.

“You thought I was just going to throw you onto a dance floor? Ha!” She’s basically congratulating herself on knowing you and Dakota better than you know her, and you’re happy to be wrong about her. “Don’t worry, the next place has a dance floor, we just need to get our buzz on first.”

Dakota is eyeing the extensive cocktail menu. “Oh, fuck it. I’m getting shots. Tequila?” He says as if it’s a question, but quickly leaves before either you or Casey can answer. He returns a few minutes later with three shots and limes. “Y/n you have the next round, then it’s your turn Casey.”

After more than a few drinks later and a solid hour of dancing and shouting along to the top pop songs of the week you’re on to your third location. Casey has a rule of 5 places minimum before you’re allowed to return to the hotel. While dancing was fun, you are almost as desperate to sit down as Casey is. Her alcohol blanket must be wearing off because you can see the pain in her walk. Thank God you didn’t wear heels.

“It’s close, just around this corner.” She says while using Dakota to steady herself as they walk arm in arm. You follow just behind them, the sidewalk not quite big enough to fit three across, allowing yourself to take in the city. You miss living in a city. Life is less isolating in a city than a small town. You’d moved partially hoping to escape from how small your hometown felt, but how you managed to delude yourself into that is still a bit of a mystery to you.

You turn the corner and are pleased to see another lounge. There’s only a short line to get in which is truly a blessing, even if it isn’t moving particularly fast. You wait, leaning your shoulder on the wall facing Casey and Dakota trying to pay attention to what they’re talking about. Something about bar etiquette. You notice that feeling rises in you again: _something big is going to happen. _It is just that, right? Not vomit from more alcohol you’ve had in the past 3 months combined, right? Definitely not alcohol, you’d danced yourself mostly sober anyway. You feel yourself start to rabbit hole and shake your head to pull yourself out of it. You’re almost at the front of the line so need to pay more attention anyway.

“No?!” Casey is shocked about something, what was she talking about?

“What?? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” You take a few steps forward, only one party behind the front of the line.

“If a guy buys you a drink, you have to at least dance with him” She poses the debate to you only slightly glaring at Dakota.

“I say you only owe a chat.”

“I don’t know, I think it depends on the guy and the place.” Casey rolls her eyes “No, seriously. If a guy buys you a drink here, are you going to dance with him?” A few steps forward.

“Y/N, what do you mean ‘if’?” You let out half of a laugh and Casey stands, flaunting her confidence, until her eyes drift somewhere else. “Don’t look now, but is that who I think it is?” You notice other conversations from those in the line getting quieter around you. Whispering just loud enough to hear, but too quiet to distinguish actual words surrounds you.

Maybe it’s because you’re still buzzed, or maybe it’s because you think it’d be funny to annoy Casey you turn to look as soon as Dakota looks past you. Walking confidently towards you is a small group of people all of whom look vaguely familiar as they approach in half-lighting. One of them is smiling at the line as he walks past. You know you’re staring, well, more like glaring, and for some reason you’re ok with that. As they get closer you start putting well-known names to a few of the faces, some more familiar than others and start hoping they’re heading to a different bar. Anywhere but here, please, you just want to sit down! The group starts filing into the lounge right past the line, and almost as if to rub it in the smiling one looks right at you just before you roll your eyes.

“Typical.” You say bitingly, making direct eye contact with him. It was loud enough for him to hear and it quickly relieves him of the smile he had plastered on. Casey snaps her head and gives you a look of horror mixed with astonishment. As the group disappears through the doors.

“What?” Who knows what possessed you to say it? Your general agitation? Your aching feet? Your concern for Casey’s undoubtedly blistered feet?

“Who’d have thought that this is when you become outspoken.”

“I’ve always been outspoken, Casey”

“Loud-spoken, then”

“No lie, it was pretty bad ass, did you see his face?” Dakota is the only one of the three of you smiling.

“You three, IDs please” the bouncer redirects your attention to the lounge and the idea of sitting.

You basically fall into an open booth tucked away in a corner far away from the bar, the entrance, and pretty much everything except the bathrooms, but you’re not about to pass up a seat, especially not one with padding.

“Don’t get too comfortable y/n, it’s your turn for drinks.” Casey seems a little cross, but you know alcohol will soon remedy her foul mood.

“Alright,” you let out an exasperated sigh and heave yourself back to your feet, “go on, place your orders.”

It isn’t necessarily crowded, but you have to squeeze your way past the odd group standing around the high tops as you make your way to the bar. You’re about halfway to the bar when you find yourself toe to toe with the man from before. You meet eyes as he lets out a sigh and you both step to one side and then the other. Dammit if he’s not making himself seem charming through his awkwardness and damn you for smiling even a little. Whatever overcame you before overcomes you again as you place your hands squarely on his shoulders to stop him moving and walk yourself around him.

To everyone else it probably looked cool, easy, as if you didn’t know or, if you did, didn’t care who he was. But really your mind is racing to a hundred different places and back again all at once:

_Oh God, not again._

_Hopefully Casey didn’t see that._

_He’s more muscular than I expected._

_He remembered you from outside. Is that good or bad? Bad, definitely bad._

_Why’d I have to be so rude out there?!_

_Why do I care what he thinks of me?_

_UGH!_

_He’s so tall, or am I just short?_

_The beard is maybe _not_ a great look._

_He is better looking in person, though._

_He’s got great hair, even if his hairline is starting to recede._

_He smelled so good._

_I’ve touched him, I’ve touched him. My God, I've touched Tom Hiddleston._

And so on, and on, and on again. You practically run into the bar and barely managed to remember the order. After what just happened you open a tab and also ordered yourself a double vodka to down at the bar before heading back balancing the three drinks.

“Finally! We were going to send out a search and rescue team!” Casey says, obviously not miffed anymore now that you’ve provided provisions, and better she hadn’t seen what had happened.

“Don’t worry, your drinks and I are safe and sound!”

“I thought you might’ve gotten tangled up in something,” Dakota gives you a wink and you feel yourself blush. “Nope, cheers!” You thrust your drink into the middle of your small group and the others follow suit. You end up gulping down your drink faster than the others do, and who can blame you?

Luckily Casey notices and, not to be outdone, finishes hers and stands with a wobble “Alright, I’m up, I’m heading to the bar, and you will drink whatever,” she looks directly at you, “and I do mean whatever, I bring back.” She spins on the heel of her heel and totters off toward the bar.

“So?” Dakota scoots closer to you.

“So what?”

“_So,_ you had a brush with a very hot, fairly famous, and undeniably gorgeous man! Did you say anything? Did he say anything? Tell me everything?”

“Oh, that.” You look off to the rest of the lounge, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of the man Dakota is talking about to no avail so you settle your eyes back on Dakota.

“Yeah, that.”

“It was nothing, just trying to get by each other.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That it was nothing. He turned around to look at you after you walked past him.” You arch an eyebrow at him.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Your eyes drift back over the room, looking for a familiar face only to find one. One with three drinks in her hands and heading right towards you.

“That was fast!”

“Never underestimate the power of a smile and a low-cut shirt” she sets the drinks down on the table and settles next to Dakota. “Now, we’ve got Sazerac for Dakota, and Aunt Roberta for y/n, and dry martini for me. No questions, just drink.”

You do as instruct and you nearly fall off your chair. You knew there’d be loads of alcohol in whatever Casey brought back, but you didn’t expect it to destroy your liver in a single sip.

“Damn, Casey!”

“What? Mine’s pretty good, let me taste yours” Dakota reaches for your glass. You take a sip of Dakota’s, whiskey and strong, but not half as strong as yours.

“Mine’s pretty good too, once you get past the—“ Dakota immediately starts coughing.

“Wow. I may never see again after that.”

“Oh come on, it’s not _that_ strong.” Casey reaches for the glass, takes a sip, and coughs. “Nope. Never mind. On a totally unrelated note, y/n, do you know, by any chance, if absinthe is legal in Canada?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that I am not drinking all of that alone!” They nod in agreement. By the time the three of you reach the bottom of the glass you can’t feel your face, but know you haven’t stopped smiling or laughing for at least half an hour.

“Our next location beckons my darlings,” Casey says as she grabs Dakota’s hand. She has definitely stomached the lion’s share of the alcohol despite your drink with Dakota and your double vodka earlier, it is time to move the party onward.

“Right, I’m right behind you, just have to close my tab.” Apparently you’re not too drunk to remember your tab, and you congratulate yourself a bit.She nods with her eyes half closed and again spins around dragging Dakota to the door.

You’re waiting to get to the bar, not really paying attention and looking around in the absent-minded way alcohol makes you do. You don’t even notice the person in front of you turn with a drink in each hand until half of them are spilled down your front. And in the way that alcohol can make a mess into something funny you start laughing.

“I’m so sorry!” That voice, a voice you’ve heard before, but not this close. Now it’s a foot in front of you, attached to a body you’d touched not an hour ago.

“Oh, don’t be, it happens all the time.” You meet his eyes again as you start trying to wipe the remaining liquid off your shirt.

“Does it?” He says handing you several napkins.

“Yep. To me, anyway.” You see his mostly empty glasses on the bar, “Oh gosh, your drinks! Let me buy you your drinks back!” Suddenly Aunt Roberta is rearing her head, and making you sound like you’ve just downed half a bottle of alcohol. Perhaps because throughout the night you have.

“Don’t be silly, I spilt on you!”

“I was standing too close and I’m closing my tab out anyway.”

“You’re not going to let me say no to this, are you?”

“Not a chance.” He smiles, really smiles at you, and you almost feel sober.

“Alright, vodka tonic and a Negroni.” You don’t mean to but you lift your eyebrows before moving to order the drinks and close out. You can still feel him behind you. Not breath on your neck, or the heat of his body, or his gaze, you can just feel _him_ standing there. “Ok, I’m curious. What was that for?” You turn to face him and he steps closer

.“What?” You take a deep breath and feel your heart rate quicken. You know he’s attractive, and dammit if he doesn’t know it too. Can he see your pulse pounding in your neck? He’s looking at you close enough, looking at you like you’re a riddle to be solved, and it’s the first time anyone has ever looked at you that way.

“That look just then?”

“Oh, just impressed I guess. Negroni’s aren’t the most common order.” You half turn to grab the drinks and hand them to him.

“Hate to disappoint you again, but the Negroni’s not mine.”

“Again?”

“Outside? When you were standing in line?”

“Ah, right.” You press your lips together in a kind of polite smile. “Well, enjoy your night.” You start to walk past him, knowing the longer you stay there the more likely you are to say something else idiotic.

“Wait!” What? What could someone like him possibly have to say to someone like you?

You turn around and are surprised to see him nearly bump into you again.

“Have to be careful with those things!” You say, motioning nodding to the drinks in his hands. He lets out a half-chuckle.

“Right. Can you wait here for just a moment? I’ll be right back.”

“My friends are waiting for me, I really should go.”

“I’ll be quick and I’ll walk you out if you want, please?”

Maybe it’s Aunt Roberta, the sincerity in his eyes, the fact that you feel bad for being rude earlier, or a combination of all three but you nod and glue yourself to your spot.

He’s back in what feels like only a few seconds. Because you can’t seem to break yourself of a bad habit you raise your eyebrows at him, urging him to explain as you feel his hand lightly in the small of your back guiding you towards the exit.

“Thanks for waiting, I half expected you to disappear on me.” What did he expect you to say to that? You can’t think of anything and luckily neither can Aunt Roberta. “I just, um, just wanted to, I don’t know…” He stops walking and touches your arm gently to slow you down. You look at where his fingers meet your skin.

“You just wanted to what?” He breaks the contact and you look him dead in the eyes without rancor or expectation.

“No one treats me the way you do. Outside, earlier, just now.”

“Sorry about that.” You start to walk away again, clearly your feet have their own idea of what's going to happen tonight, and this time his hand grasps yours gently.

“No you don’t understand, wait!” This time he holds on when you face him. How could you possibly understand what he’s saying? It makes no sense! You’ve been rude at each interaction, and honestly he kind of deserves it, or if he didn’t before, he does now.

“No, I guess I don’t.” But you don’t pull away this time, his hand gently holding yours has you anchored in front of him.

“Everyone is always trying to impress me, I can never tell if someone I meet is being genuinely themselves or just some version they think I want to see. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’d like to get to know you and, if your friends wouldn’t mind, would you let me buy you a drink?” You close your eyes as if it will make sense of what he’s just said.

“What?”

“May I buy you a drink?”

“Right, I heard you, I just…” You feel your phone buzz. Oh god, Casey and Dakota. They’ve probably been waiting for you, or wondering where you are, or if you got abducted somewhere along the way.

“It’s only fair, right? You bought me two, the least I can do is buy you one” His eyes are basically pleading and you can hear Aunt Roberta whisper _‘Why not? It’ll never happen again and it’ll be a great story. Go on, have a drink with the handsome actor who finds you interesting!’ _All the while he’s still talking “if nothing else think of it as an apology for spilling on you and a thank you for the drinks. Two birds, one drink!”

“Alright.“ You say it softly, but he hears you. His smile spreads across his face, wrinkling his eyes, and smoothing his forehead. You didn’t realize he was still holding your hand until he starts pulling you back towards a booth along the wall opposite to where you’d been sitting.

“Wait.” You stop dead in your tracks right before the empty booth. He turns to look at you wondering what could have changed in the 50 steps since you’d said yes. “What about everyone else? Negroni and everyone else you walked in with?”

“Would you believe me if I said I told them I owed a girl a drink?” He walks backward, still holding your hand, drawing you towards the booth.

“Probably not,” you say cautiously as you step into the booth and sit down.

“Well, I did. I’m going to see them all tomorrow anyway, so don’t worry about them.” Your phone buzzes again.

“Ahh, I see.”

“Anyway, what’ll it be?”“Something clear, so gin and tonic, please.” He smiles and slides out the other side of the booth.

“Right, be right back.”

Almost immediately you reach for your phone and instantly see the time: It’s already 2:30. The first film you want to see is at 10, so a drink might not kill you. You remember the buzzing and open your messages:

_At the club n ur not here??? - Dakota_

_Where you at?????? - Dakota_

Does he need to know that somehow you’re having a drink with Tom Hiddleston? Or, does a drunk Dakota need to know? Probably not. It’s a story you can tell them when Aunt Roberta isn’t coursing through everyone’s veins.

_Not feeling great. going back to hotel. txt me when you guys get in _

_booo ant robert got u down!!! kk babes_

He must have had more than you thought or got more at the club, because, wow. Just, wow. You’re smiling at your phone when Tom returns empty handed.

“Friends alright?”

“Uh, depends on how you define alright, but I think they’d say so.” You smile, not really flirting, but you’re not _not_ flirting. You realize he’s put an arm around you as he positioned himself closer to you. You can properly breathe him in now. He smells better than before. Forget the drink you could just drink the smell of him in all night. Thinking of the drink you arch an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, right. I just asked for table service. It beats waiting in line.”

“I’m sure it does. Not a big fan of lines, huh?” He laughs a bit, but you’re not_ really_ trying to be funny.

“Touché” You’re saved from yourself and insulting Tom further by the waitress delivering your drinks.

“So…” You look away from your drink and into a pair of eyes that seem to be searching for something as much as you are. He’s still taller than you sitting in the booth and you’re still wondering what the hell you’re doing in a booth in Toronto with someone like him. Perhaps he can sense your apprehension or unease because he picks up where you left off, thank God for that.

“So,” he raises his glass towards yours, “‘Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you’”

“‘I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased to wish it back on you.’” Your glasses clink and you take a sip all while maintaining eye contact. How you’d pulled that from your Sophomore Lit class is beyond you, but you feel Aunt Roberta congratulating you in your head and it all has you buzzing.

“You know your Shakespeare.” He says, half impressed and maybe even a little disappointed.

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“You’re just full of surprises,” A silence grows, although you yourself can’t tell why it feels so easy. “Speaking of—“ he continues, tiptoeing his way around a question you know you don’t have a decent answer too.

“Yes?”

“I have to ask. Outside, what was that about?”

“The ’typical,’ you mean?”

“Well, yes. Definitely caught me off guard, and caught my attention.”

“Well, it was irritating watching people walk by, nodding at us like they’re saying ‘you’re welcome, I know I’m great and you’re blessed by my presence, but do let me step ahead of you despite your wait.’”

“I apologize I came off that way, I meant to use my ‘I’m so sorry, please excuse me’ nod.” You chuckle a bit and look away. As if you didn’t feel horrible before this started.

“Well clearly I missed the ‘Different Nods and their Intentions’ day in class.”

“Obviously you’re not the only one!” You almost laugh, but take a drink instead. You’ve almost finished it, something Tom has not failed to notice.

“Alright, change of topic, Toronto. Are you here for the festival? Work? What?” He readjusts himself next to you.

“Festival, you?” This time it’s he who quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, are you here to promote or watch? Business or pleasure?”

“Business, so far. I honestly can’t remember the last time I attended a festival just to enjoy it.”

“Well if you could, which festival would it be?”

“Location-wise I think you can’t beat Cannes, but I prefer the smaller independent films so maybe Sundance. Are you a film buff then? In the business?”

"Mhmm, a bit of a buff. I’m with you on the independent films. I’ve only been to Sundance once, but was at South by Southwest a few years ago, and Tribeca last year.”

“I think ‘a bit’ is an understatement.”

“Maybe.” Now you’ve only got one sip left in your glass.

“Can I get you another?”

“I’d like that,” he starts to lift his arm, but you reach out and stop him. Only gently wrapping your fingers around his forearm, his other hand coming to rest on yours. “But I better not. I really should get going. Have to be up early and all that.” You’re surprised to see he’s disappointed.

“Right, I suppose I should be heading out too.” Neither of you move, both looking at your hands. “Can I drop you somewhere?”

You look around, anywhere but at him, because if you do you might just say yes. Eventually you can’t help yourself and look at him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Right, then. Off we go!”

You’re floating in this moment, you’ve stopped beating yourself up over your mouth running away anymore, you don’t feel Aunt Roberta dancing in your head. He’s just leading you to the door, your hand in his. It almost feels normal. An ordinary moment with an extraordinary man.


	2. Don't Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after you decide to leave together?

He’s guiding you still, your hand cupped in his, giving you time to reexamine every moment of the night. You’re half kicking yourself for being so much like you, even though that’s what had caught his attention. All you had a drink and a chat, if Casey were here she’d have… who knows what she’d have done by now? But she would have done _something_. What a boring ending to a potentially interesting night. Luckily, you’re not wearing her heels. There’s no way she’d be able to keep pace with his long strides. As if he could hear your thoughts, he stops short just before the exit. With one hand on the door and the other with a slightly tighter grip on your own. This is why you shouldn’t follow a man blindly, because you nearly walked into him. Again. That would have been on par with the rest of the evening. The two of you clumsily fumbling around each other all night. He doesn’t quite turn to face you, but you can sense something is different in him. His apprehension is new to you but comforting in an odd way. It’s the most human thing you’ve seen in him all night. You walk closer to him, standing next to him, looking out onto the crowding pavement. You’re not entirely sure what you’re both waiting for, it’s only when you look at him that you see his forehead furrowed with concern that you feel a hint of unease starts to settle in you. You’re distracted in the study of the lines on his face when he looks at you. His eyes are changed, the blue you knew they were remains but the cheerful glint entirely absent, the concern on his face now in his eyes and searching yours for what? Safety? Relief? Regret? 

“Keep your head down, don’t stop moving, and don’t let go until you’re in the car. Alright?” His voice is low and demanding and so unlike what you’d come to expect from him. You’re not necessarily scared, but certainly taken aback at his sudden change in demeanor. The nest of unease grows slowly, so slow you barely notice it start. You can manage a nod, but that’s about it. He squeezes your hand reassuringly; you appreciate the gesture even though it does nothing to stop the uneasiness from spreading or your heart from picking up pace. He’s focusing on the street again, and it hits you. He’s waiting for the car he had ordered just moments ago to pull up. You can’t wait outside for it. The sidewalk was crowded with people lying in wait to catch a glimpse, snap a photo, or get a piece of him. You see the SUV pull up as soon as he does, and you hold your breath as he starts to move.

The cool night air sweeps across your face as he opens the door and steps ahead of you. Your hand is still clasped in his firm, if not a little protective grasp as he leads you back onto the sidewalk where you’d first rolled your eyes at him. This could have almost been enjoyable. If you were with anyone else you’d be waiting for a rideshare, taking in a moment shared in the stillness, breathing in the refreshing chill of the late summer air, staring into the night sky searching for a star beyond the city lights. And no one would care. No one would notice. But here, with him, you study the pavement, plant each step carefully, keep your head down, keep moving, and don’t let go. It becomes clear within half a step that you’re not alone in this moment. There are eyes peering at you, ogling him, fixated at your hands. Flashes light up the sidewalk casting unpredictable shadows against the pavement. Whispers turn to shouts, demands, shrieks. Everything about it is disorienting. Everything but his hand leading you on. So that’s what you try to focus on. He’s here with you, he’s not letting go. Even so, your heart rate quickens to an uncomfortable pace. You start to wonder just how far away the curb could possibly be from the door. It seemed like 15 paces before, now it might as well be 50. You hadn’t thought this through. Had you forgotten who you were with while holding his hand? Maybe. But you shouldn’t have.

“Tom, I love you!” **“TOM! TOM! LOOK THIS WAY!” “LOOK AT THE CAMERA!” “RIGHT HERE!”** “You’re the greatest!” **“ANY COMMENTS, TOM?“ “TOM!! GIVE US A SMILE!” “WHO’S THE GIRL, TOM?”** “Can I have a selfie?” **“TOM!” “IS SHE YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” **“I’ll go home with you!” **“RIGHT HERE!”** **“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TOGETHER?”** “One picture, please! I love you!” **“WHAT HAPPENED TO HER SHIRT?”** “Can I hold your hand?” **“TOM WHAT’S NEXT?” “HOW’S THE PLAY?” “GIVE US A PICTURE, COME ON!!”**

Finally you hear them turn to you, descending, shoving, pulling, prying.

**“MISS, WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”** “Who is she?” **“LOOK AT THE CAMERA!” “SMILE!” “RIGHT HERE!” “HOW DO YOU KNOW TOM?” “WHERE ARE YOU FROM?” “IS HE A GOOD KISSER?”** “She’s not even that pretty!” **“MISS, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TOGETHER?” “WHAT DO YOU DO?”** “Look at her! She’s a total mess!” **“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” “TOM DID YOU GET INTO A FIGHT?” “COME ON GIVE US SOMETHING!”** “Ugh, no fair!” **“SMILE!” “LOOK AT THE CAMERA!” “RIGHT HERE!”**

He’s opened the door; he’s pulling you past him into the car and you step into the car sure not to look back. You somehow have the wherewithal to tell the driver your hotel before sliding into your seat. Tom steps in closely behind you, shutting the door in a swift and practiced motion. It’s over. Your mouth is dry, your stomach in knots and in your throat at the same time. You’re shielding your face from the windows and the flashing, shouting, and pounding that’s begun to surround you. The carpet. Focus on the carpet. It’s beige. It’s clean. You stay like that totally unaware of what he’s doing or if he’s even there. You barely notice the car start to move. You keep staring at the small loops of the carpet until the flashes fade into the background, the shouts a distant memory, nothing but the hum of the engine. The engine and a pair of hands gently caressing your shoulders and down your back and arms. You start to relax, lower your hands and feel him closer. It’s a comforting contact, not quite a hug, not a consoling back rub, but something filled with tenderness and concern. You release a breath, slowly, steadily, regaining your composure.

“You didn’t let go.” His voice is soft and low, but kind. You slowly turn to him, his arms still holding you loosely. Not too tight for fear of smothering you, but hesitant to let go entirely.“You told me not to.” You look him dead in the eyes and rest your hand on his arm in a silent ‘thank you.’ The light from the street is enough to see the hint of a smile is enough to ground you and burry any uneasiness that remained.

“Sorry about all of that, I wish that— “

“It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you.” He says it in a self-defeated way, polite, but he doesn’t really mean it.

His face is so close you feel the hint of his breath, you can see that the furrows that crosses his brow like mountain ranges have gone, but the valleys they’ve created remain, only just. The light flickers across his face, illuminating his eyes for moments at a time. What look is it that you catch illuminated by each passing car? You know what it’s not, though. It’s not lust, it’s not burning desire, it’s not mere interest, it’s not just concern, it’s an almost wonderful night and a deflating ending, it’s almost enough and all too much.

You can’t bear to look at him if he’s going to look at you like that and not do anything about it, but just as you start to look away there’s a hand lifting you back and lips! His lips! You’re lost in the sensation of him. One of his hands steadies your neck while the other slides confidently to your waist. You can feel his fingertips trying to pull you closer, fighting the rest of him intent on keeping you exactly where you are. You don’t remember when or how long it’s been there, but you notice your hand resting on his knee. Slowly the other finds its own way to his neck. His pulse is racing, pounding against your palm. He’s slowly building, deepening the kiss, eager yet still holding back. Your fingers slip into the loose curls at the nape of his neck and—

He breaks it off. Just as soon as it started it stops. His eyes lower as if he’s scolding himself. You quickly pull away unsure of what is wrong, what you did or didn’t do, if it was you at all. He drops his head slightly and runs his hands through his hair. The action alone makes you want him to pick up where he left off more, but you don’t dare. You would never. All you can manage is to seek an arm, or a hand, or something to hold onto. If he’s the one that needs reassurance now you can do that.

You find his hand and softly cover it with your own. Maybe you’re just trying to maintain some kind of contact knowing that, if you’re lucky and hit some traffic, in 10 minutes you’ll be at your hotel. In 30 you’ll be alone in bed running through all the new ’what-ifs’ this night will surely bring. While you’re stuck in your head again, he’s looking at your hand and turns his over under yours. Palm to palm. Gently, he laces his fingers with yours.

The car is slowing down, pulling up to your hotel. So much for 10 minutes. It drives past the pull off at the front and past the gate into a car park. Tom is confused and slightly irritated, but still doesn’t let go of your hand.

“No, we’re supposed to drop her first.”

“Tom, this is my hotel.” His eyes perk up, that glint you’d been searching for earlier returns, but he doesn’t dare smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Try not to sound so surprised.”

“I’m just happy that we don’t have to say goodbye in the back of a car.”

You’re genuinely pleased and can’t help but let the smile overcome you. You arch an eyebrow at him. Casey would be so proud of you even attempting to flirt. But your own head gets the better of you. So, what if you’re staying in the same hotel? It doesn’t mean anything. It might just result in the world’s most awkward elevator ride. Either way you’re both smiling in this moment.

\----

He’d asked you up, and you said yes. What resulted was a quiet walk across a lobby to an elevator. What were you thinking? Of course you wanted to, but…No. You try to keep yourself from focusing on the possible consequences or intentions and just stay in the moment. But this moment is silent. In an elevator. Filled with small dings as each floor passes. You remember the warmth of his hand, the comfort it offered, how right it felt to hold it, touch it, and that’s all you want. Maybe not _all_ you want. But you’re in an elevator so it’s all you want right now. You can feel yourself moving towards him, letting something overcome you, for the first time in a long time, if not ever, you stop your head from ruining this moment of action with logic. You feel his hand and fold yours into it hesitantly. but it’s not caressing yours, it’s moved to your face, to your neck and stays there. Is he going to do what you think he is? What you want him to? Does he want to? Stop thinking about everything!

Finally, the doors open onto a deserted floor. He leads you out, down the hall, through his hotel room and closes it swiftly behind you. He’s on you within seconds. His hands caressing you, kissing you. It’s passionate and frenzied. Your head is spinning, flying far away from the realm of coherent thought. You step out of your shoes and drop your bag as he walks you carefully towards what you can only assume is the bedroom. Your hands push his jacket off his shoulders, and he lets it fall. You’re going to have dreams about those shoulders. He’s wrapping you up, pressing you closer to him. You can feel how toned he is even through his shirt and yours. He’s practically carrying you, lifting you up so that your steps are merely gliding on tiptoe. He’s walking more confidently with every stride. He sets you down at the foot of the bed. His mouth still exploring yours, the beard tickling with exquisite ease as he makes his way down your neck. His hands are wandering, softly tugging at the hem of your shirt, as if he’s asking permission to continue, to move forward, but… But this time you freeze. You can’t. Oh no. This isn’t who you are, you’re not one to sleep with strangers. That’s what he is after all. You know so little of who he is other than what you’ve heard him to be. If he liked that you didn’t try to impress him, what you’re thinking of doing is sure to make him fall for you hard. You know it’s too late. You remove your hand from what feels like its rightful place in his muss of curls and stops the hand on your shirt. He stops immediately, because of course he does.

“Tom.” He rests his forehead against yours. He’s close but far enough for you to feel regret rise in you. Are sure it’s too late to change your mind? Can’t you shake your head free just this once? “I don’t think I can do this.” You think too much to do much of anything it seems. He pulls away fully now letting you go because you’re basically begging him to, and it physically hurts you. “I’m just not- I’m no one’s fling.” Don’t you dare breakdown, don’t you dare! “I know myself too well, and I know that this, it doesn’t end well.” He’s moving further away from you, and you feel the resentment start to rise in you, “And, God, Tom I don’t think you even know my name!”

“I’m sorry. I—” You cut him off again.

“Don’t. Don’t say anything, please. I’ll just…go.” You’re half expecting him to reach out to you to ask you to stay, like he’d done before. Stay and talk, stay and figure out this knot of unexpected feelings. But he doesn’t. You walk out of his bedroom, pick up your bag and shoes. Slowly you reach the door of his suite and pause. You don’t hear footsteps rushing after you, you don’t hear him at all. He’s not coming for you because this isn’t a movie, and he’s not a character. He’s a man who is doing what you’ve asked of him even though you know it’s not really what you want. You think he must know that too. Right? No. Because he’s also not a mind reader.

The hall is still empty but seems longer now. The walk is certainly longer without him pushing your pace. You hit the button to call the elevator. Down. Yup, seems about right. Going down, feeling down. Definitely down. Your stomach feels like it has already hit the ground floor. You touch the grey 7 with a sense of defeat. You did it, though. You did all this to yourself. It’ll be a much longer ride down to the seventh floor, than it had been up to the twentieth.

“Wait!”

What?

“Hold the door!” You stick an arm out and stop the doors from closing and there he is.

“May I say something. Please?” You don’t say anything but still don’t move away either. “I hope that you don’t feel I was taking advantage, or—”

“Don’t worry, I don’t.” You let go of the door and step back into the elevator, fully intent on riding it down. At least now you’re irritated instead of despondent.

“Right,” He holds the door open, “I just wouldn’t want for my intentions there to be misconstrued as—” Eye roll. Yes, do that. Return to bad habits. But, seriously, does he think you’re going to tell _anyone_ about any of this? The mouth you’d get from Casey is enough for you to bury it so far down you’ll wonder if it ever even happened.

“I’m not going to sue you or anything, ok?”

“I didn’t think you would. Just, let me get this out.” You nod and wrap your arms around yourself, realizing just how often you’ve interrupted him. Again. “Right. In the few hours I’ve known you I’ve found you to be interesting, and thoughtful, unexpected, and completely captivating. I promise you, I don’t have one-night stands, certainly not during festivals in foreign countries. I guarantee you I’m usually much more gentlemanly and ask a lady’s name before kissing her let alone...Well, I’d like to do this properly, to get to know you better if you’d allow me that privilege.” It sounds just a little too rehearsed for you to bare. You can feel the night taking its toll on you physically, and the man before you is certainly draining you mentally and emotionally.

“That’s sweet, truly, but what’s the point?” He visibly deflates at your jagged bluntness. “I mean, I’m leaving in a few days, and you’re off to bigger and better things, too. We’ll never see each other again, so all this could ever be is a shallow night or two, and it’s not something I would ever want.”

“I don’t want that either!” He raises his voice just a little, more than is probably reasonable at 4 AM and his eyes shift around, looking for the hint of a door cracking open. He steps closer to you, as unsure as you’d seen him all night. When he speaks, it's soft and low, “I just want to know if there could be something here, because I can’t be the only one standing here wanting more than just tonight.” 

He’s right and you know it. Even through the shock of him saying it to you. Even though you don’t know how whatever this is came to be the very least you can do is try. And once he realizes you’re not everything he thinks you are he’ll be far enough away that maybe the rejection won’t hurt that much.

“Phone.” You hold out your hand expectantly.

“I don’t, I don’t have it with me, I just—” You pull out yours and hand it to him.

“Put your number in and I’ll text you mine. It’s as good a place to start as any.” He basically grabs it from you and taps the number and hands it back to you. “Alright, goodnight then.” He’s smiling. You could really fall for that smile.

“Goodnight” he holds your attention completely, in the way that makes you feel so sure. He steps into the elevator and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. It was brief, sweet, potentially even nervous. And just like that you’re consumed by the thought of him all over again.

You let the doors close as he steps back. The elevator starts to descend, and as the floors ding by you remember your phone. You look down at his number typed and the message field empty. Ball’s in your court, what do you do?

_It’s y/n._

_Prove it._

You’re walking down your own hallway now, meandering towards your own room when your phone buzzes.

_heading back now with Casey. WILD night!!!! tell you everything over lunch! – Dakota_

Bless Dakota for being responsible and keeping both himself and Casey alive all night, but he is definitely not who you want to hear from right now. You arrive at your door and step into the darkness of the room when another buzz interrupts the silence and as determined as you are to fall into bed and sleep, your curiosity gets the better of you.

_I intend to. – Tom_

A smile is all you have energy for as you fall into the bed, but it’s enough to stay any regret you thought you’d had as sleep overtakes you.


	3. Morning Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early morning call wakes you, though you're not entirely convinced you're not still in a dream.
> 
> It's short but sweet.

The relief of sleep is all too brief, cut short by an irritating buzzing, vibrating through your head and into your teeth. It’s such an unpleasant sensation and only relieved when you lift your head, but opening your eyes brings forth a new pain. Nevertheless, the buzzing must be stopped.

  


A call? Who actually calls people? You don’t recognize the number, only the location.

  


“Hello?” It’s raspy and groggy, but it’s the best you can do.

“Y/N?” You know immediately who it is. You were contented enough just to dream a night you’d spent with him. You like the way he says your name, you almost don’t notice the panging headache it induces. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Mhmm I don’t mind so much.” You look at the clock. 8:36, you should be getting up anyway if you were going to get any food and make it to the screening at 10. And you needed food and were nauseated by the thought of ingesting anything.

“I’m very glad to hear it. I was hoping we could get some coffee or breakfast if you’re hungry?”

“Sounds great, just give me a minute, and I’ll meet you?”

“Great,” he’s smiling, how is he smiling? He had not encountered Aunt Roberta, that’s how. You make a mental note to never let Casey order anything for you ever again.

“Should I come up, or—?”

“If you’d like, although I’d be more than happy to come to you.”

“Sure, I’m in 712.” Is this a good idea? What if Casey or Dakota come in? Who are you kidding? They’ll be asleep until the late afternoon.

“I’ll see you soon!” He’s so eager, so happy, it’s enough for you to smile into the phone despite him having already hung up.

  


Unfortunately, what he’ll see is a mystery to you in your current state. You sloppily unwind yourself from the sheets and fuddle your way into the bathroom. The light in the bathroom is even less forgiving than you thought. Is it not a rule to never sleep in your makeup? You can still taste the night on your mouth, the stale alcohol and something else. Something sweet. Nearly the taste of something else, but not quite. You don’t look entirely like death, but you definitely look like you just woke up from a night you wouldn’t normally remember. But after last night, how could you forget?

Shit. You need to not look like the embodiment of a hangover in just a few minutes. You need to wash and brush everything. Shitshitshit! Why aren’t you moving faster? It seems like a shower-shave-brush teeth-wash hair all at once kind of morning, something you haven’t done since undergrad. You’re doing a lot of things you haven’t done since undergrad.

  


Your hair is dripping, you’re frantically pulling on your clothes all while trying to stop your head from spinning. But it’s spinning for more than one reason, mostly the fact that you heard a gentle knock at the door. Quiet, hesitant, you’d have missed it if you weren’t waiting for it and if your head wasn’t throbbing at the slightest sound. You carefully open the door, half expecting someone else to be there. It doesn’t seem like something that would happen to you. Not him, anyway definitely not him. Maybe someone who looked like him through a bottle of God-knows-what, but not _really_ him. But it is him, smiling at you whispering a half audible “Hey” into the crack in the door. You open it wider and allow him into your room. It’s in shambles, but you barely had time to fix one mess this morning.

  


“Hi.” It’s all you can really manage as you try to avoid your hair from dripping everywhere.

“How are you doing?” there’s a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“Um, well, you know, I’ve been better.” You just abandon any attempts at doing your hair and opt for a sloppy bun. How alluring, you’ve never felt more beautiful or seductive than you do in this moment. How in the world can he resist you?? Your own sarcasm is truly a comfort in moments like these.

“Is there anything I can do?” He’s watching you hunt for a shoe.

“No, no, I’m almost ready, I promise. Sorry!” Found it! Ok. Clothes, check. Shoes, check. An attempt at makeup, half-check. Bag? Shit.

“Darling, I didn’t mean to rush you.” You stop, mid frantic search, the moment he calls you darling. Not long enough for a full freeze, but certainly longer than a hesitation. You grab your bag from the floor and look him in the eyes for the first time since you opened the door.

“No it’s fine. I-“ what you want to say is ‘I’m sorry I’m such a mess and a disappointment in the light of day’ or ‘I understand if you want to leave,’ but instead you settle on “I’m ready now.”

“Then let’s go.” he holds a hand out to you, and you take it tentatively. Still so unsure, but it’s something he seems determined to relieve you of, lacing your fingers together and giving your hand a squeeze. You make a mental note to try not to run into him today.

As you wait for the elevator, he stands so close it would have been uncomfortable if it were anyone else.

“What are you in the mood for this morning? Coffee? Breakfast?”

“I think I can manage coffee.”

“That kind of night?”

“It was a good night, but it’s definitely that kind of morning.”

“Coffee it is.”

“How are you so pleasant with so little sleep?”

“Practice, darling.” There’s that word again, he senses your stillness, probably notices that you’ve stopped breathing altogether even though you haven’t quite realized it yourself. “Also, I think I had a, um, shall we say a more.. mild night than you did?” You remember how to breathe.

“It sure as hell couldn’t have been stronger.” Sweet relief of an empty elevator. You finally get a good enough look to take him in properly as you enter together. He’s wearing dark clothes, casual, and the signature baseball hat requisite of celebrities during the daytime. You also spot the sunglasses hanging from his shirt. He’s prepared, but you’re not so sure you can face another onslaught of flashes and questions like last night. Especially not in your current state.

“So what did you drink then?” He’s comfortable with your eyes on him.

“Excellent question. My friend got me something called an ‘Aunt Roberta’”

“Never heard of it, what is it?”

“What isn’t it?! It may as well have been rubbing alcohol.” He laughs. You made him laugh and it makes you smile. He stares at your smile and damn him for making you blush.

“Well remind me to thank her.”

“Aunt Roberta? If I never encounter her again, I can die happy.” Another smile, his thumb caresses the back of your hand.

“I meant your friend, but yes, Aunt Roberta, too.” You can smile comfortably. Thank heavens no one gets on the elevator. You can keep this moment for just the two of you. The lobby, however, is a different story. There are people. So many people. You’re not entirely convinced that just keeping your gaze lowered will keep you from drawing attention as you’re holding hands with a walking, breathing neon sign.

“Did you, um, did you bring sunglasses?” The way his tone shifts as the pair of you prepare to walk outside is something that always throws you off.

“Umm, yeah, somewhere in here.” You find them in the depths of a bag, some ray band knockoffs - black, inconspicuous.

“Good, better put them on.” He turns toward the door, intent on leading you forward, but you stay put. He turns back toward you the moment you stop moving. He says nothing, just looks at you with the concern that seems to run too deep in him.

“Is it going to be the same as—“

“As last night? No, I don’t think so.” You nod still feeling shaken and unprepared for what even a few hours with him in public will be like. He pulls you closer to him, in a way that is still so new and yet so comforting. “I’m here with you, I won’t let go.” It’s a comforting thought.

  


If anyone is watching you, you don’t notice. But, you feel something come up in you. Not vomit. At least you hope it’s not vomit. It’s almost sadness, almost fear, and very much uncertainty. You slip your sunglasses on. A convenient barrier between you and the world, and to some extent between you and Tom. You walk with him through the lobby, out onto the sidewalk, and down the street. The whole time unnoticed. Maybe it’s his baseball hat, maybe it’s the glasses, maybe it’s the daylight, but whatever it is, you’re thankful that the crowds have let you be this morning.

  


The walk to the coffee shop consists of comfortable small talk. A great relief to you. You fall into his stride which you suspect he’s shortened for your benefit. He tells you about the projects he’s working on, or hoping to. You tell him about the work you’re doing, why you left home and moved away from everything and everyone you know. You’re warming up to him though not to the extent that you’ve completely let your guard down, but enough to ease the tension of your morning. His voice has you transfixed. The accent, the timbre, the way his s’s seem to linger when he speaks. Then a fear rises in you. His voice. He’s recognizable, familiar, but his voice is a dead giveaway. Coffee shop snickers and gossip would probably not only add to your hangover but surpass it. you take advantage of the pause before the crosswalk as you approach the coffee shop:

  


“Tom…”

“Mm?”

“Would you mind if I ordered for us?”

“What?”

“Can I get the coffee?”

“I wanted to treat you, to—“

“I just—“ interrupting him is so attractive, how could he deny you? “I don’t , um, I appreciate you wanting to cover the coffee, but-” You chide yourself for thinking of lying to him, “I don’t really want to, you know, draw attention.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s disappointed.

“I could say I want to repay you for the ride, or an apology for basically running away and sassing you in an elevator last night—"

“I’m surprised you remember after Aunt Roberta.” You greatly appreciate the gentle jab of the comment and feel half a laugh catch in your throat. The mischief in his voice puts you at ease with its implication of familiarity.

“I have a vague recollection. I just, if we’re going to, I’m-I want us to have what time we can without inviting everyone else…” you trail off, as you notice him smiling at you.

“I take it black.” He smiles down at you and you return the look.

“Thank you.” You find your thumb gently caressing the back of his hand. You have to admit, he’s growing on you more and more.

  


The light turns and you continue to the coffee shop, more contented than before, more comfortable than you’d expected in light of your hangover.

  


\---

  


Having hopefully gone unnoticed during the whole three minutes it took for you to order the coffee and for them to make it you breathe a sigh of relief as you return to a relatively empty pavement with coffee in hand. You decide it best to head towards the theater where you are supposed to screen a film, alone. Even though you find Tom’s company more and more appealing.

  


“Happy?” He asks as you cling both hands to the cup of salvation before you.

“Mhmmm. I almost feel like a person again!” He chuckles into his own cup. You aren’t sure if it’s his laugh or the coffee, but you feel the tension drip away with every passing moment.

“So, where to?”

“Well, I’m supposed to go to a screening then lunch with my friends, but—”

“But?

“But I’m not definitely set on anything anymore.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You smile into your cup; flirting has never been your strong suit. If he has any interest in you, it’s better that he gets to know the real you, awkwardness and all, and not some caricature of who you think he would want to you to be.

“Can I ask if this change of heart has anything to do with me?”

“You can.” You pause, taking another sip. Why do you always drink something when you want to avoid talking too much? You should really carry around water instead of seeking out coffee, or worse, alcohol.

“So?”

“I’d say it has everything to do with you.” You feel a hand gently rest in the small of your back. Tentative, hesitant. You thank God for the sunglasses because they hide the eye roll which would have strained an ocular muscle in someone with less practice. You’re supposed to be the shy one, not him. You feel yourself lean into him, not fully committed to releasing the warmth coffee from your grasp, but still wanting to feel his closeness. You have a vague memory of last night, flashes of having felt his arms, his shoulders, his body. The coffee seems less warm now.

“I’m happy to hear it.” He holds you more firmly as you walk. “Would you like to sit somewhere?”

“Sure.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, life got in the way.
> 
> As always, thoughts, ideas, and feedback welcome. Hope you enjoy!


	4. A Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you finally talk about what *this* is, what is there to say?

Tom led you to a small patch of controlled nature on your walk from the cafe. You almost wonder if he’s done this before. Found someone in a bar, made them feel special for a day or two then goes back to his life. If that’s the case, and you hope against hope that it’s not, but if it is, you’ll do your best to enjoy the time you have with him.

Your coffee is long gone, but the cup is of comfort to you. Something to fiddle with. You have very nervous hands around him. When he’s not holding them, anyway. You’re hyper aware of the time, knowing it’s finite. Casey and Dakota are probably just now waking up, getting ready for lunch later. Hopefully Casey will run late and give you more time with Tom. This is all the time you may have so you’re determined not to miss a thing, to take everything in. You would have expected him to talk more, tell you the wild stories that the world already knows, but he doesn’t. He tells you about growing up, his sisters, his parent’s divorce, some of his boarding school antics. Hearing him talk about his family is unexpected but endears him to you more. All you’ve been talking about is work, but after the move there isn’t much else to share. You’re not overly eager to fall into the topic of your life back home, you want him to like you after all, and that is definitely a conversation best left to a later date. Is this a date? Or is it a formality? He asked you to coffee, that’s definitely a date, right? Yes. It’s a date. You’re on a date with Tom Hiddleston!

No.

Tom.

Just Tom. 

You don’t want  _ that _ world to mess with this one. He’ll be just Tom to you. That Hiddleshit is overwhelming enough from the outside, you can’t imagine what it’s like for him to constantly live in it. You’ve caught glances of the stress in him. What he liked about you is that you saw him as a person, not his job. You’re on a date with Tom. Just Tom.

Normally, a first date would have your stomach flipping over itself, twisting into unintelligible knots. Normally sitting and talking with someone would be difficult. But with him it’s almost easy. Almost. Usually you feel grounded when you’re in control, but there are parts of you that don’t mind the whirlwind of him. You try to shake the thought of what this could mean out of your head. You don’t jump in like this. Ever. It’s too fast. The flutter of your heart when you hear him laugh, the way your hair stands on end when you catch him looking at you. Looking at you the way he looked at you last night. Last night. It’s been one night. You haven’t even known him for a day. Not the real him anyway. Get a grip!

You study him as he fiddles with the cardboard collar wrapped around his cup. Safe behind the tint of your sunglasses you let your gaze linger. The stubble on his cheek catching the light. The cap hiding the furrows on his brow. You wonder if they are from practice or something else, something deeper. The smile lines are unmistakable though, those are from some inner joy that radiates from deep within him. You can feel his warmth from here. It’s contagious and feel some of his ease spread within you. Relax your shoulders, ease the tension. What was that about getting a grip?

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Where did you go off to?”

“Oh, sorry. Umm, just spaced out a little bit, sorry.”

“Only apologize when you’ve done something wrong, Y/N.” He’s smiling, trying to hide how clever he feels.

“You do realize we’re in Canada, right?”

“Ah, touché.” 

Silence. Oh no. It was bound to happen eventually. His life is exciting and glamorous, and yours is…. Not. Decidedly not. If this conversation has shown you anything it’s that he’s interesting and dynamic and you’ve been to the midwest which no one can argue is exciting. You can’t bring yourself to speak to him.

“Y/N, we need to talk about something”

“Wow, not even 12 hours and…”

“Not that kind of talk. Don’t worry.” He sighs, is he nervous? How could  _ he _ be nervous? “I have to leave this afternoon.” Oh.

“Oh.” Your stomach is in your throat. You know once he leaves, the minute you two separate he’ll forget about you. How could he not? Slowly, but surely, you’ll fade into the background. He’s used to glamor and all you have to offer is the epitome of ordinary. It was a nice 12 hours, you’ll look back on it fondly.

“I don’t want you to think I’m running away or that, I don’t --” You still can’t bring yourself to say anything, even though you can see he’s struggling. He turns to you, about to reach out to place his free hand on your leg but stops himself, resting it on his own leg instead. “I think we could, if you would… sorry, usually I’m more articulate than this.”

“Only apologize when you’ve done something wrong, remember?” He lets out a huff of a laugh, and just looks at his coffee lid. You lift up your glasses and peer to try to find his eyes only to see yourself reflected in the lenses of his glasses. You don’t know when you put your hand on his, but you’re glad you’re holding it. You squeeze it for courage, to bolster yourself for what you’re going to try to say. “Tom, I’m not sure what this is... with us, but I’m not, you know, I’m not expecting anything. You don’t owe me anything, you don’t have to make promises if--” He takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. You don’t know if it means he’s tired or frustrated, but God, you want the chance to find out.

“Y/N, I want to, I do. I-- I just, I can’t ask you to change your life for me, to wait around for me to be free, to have a spare moment. It’s not fair to you. I can’t ask you to take on everything it would entail.”

“Tom, you don’t have to ask.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… that I want to spend more time with you. The time we can, when we can, if you want…” He’s smiling. Could actually like you?

“Really? You’re sure?”

“Yes,” he lets out a sigh of relief. He dives in fast doesn’t he? “Yes, but…” And just like that the sigh of relief turns into a complete deflation, “but, I’m not a um, I’m not a very public person. I don’t know if I can… Last night was a lot and... That’s not my life. Not who I am and I don’t think I can do that right now.” He just looks at you. He looks relieved.

“Of course.” he’s bolstered himself up.

“I hope that’s ok.”

“It’s more than ok. It’s-- you’re amazing.”

What? What does that mean? Where the hell did that come from? You’re sitting in shock and all you’re aware of are his eyes looking into yours, and his fingers laced in yours. Safe. He leans in, cautiously. His eyes drop to your lips, you feel your pulse quicken. You inhale and smell him and his coffee. Forget Aunt Roberta, this has got to be the most intoxicating thing on earth. His hesitation is becoming annoying, and you are becoming impatient. Screw it. You close the distance between the two of you and meet his lips. His hand breaks from yours and lands on your neck. You feel his tongue flick across your lips and can’t help but feel a smile rise in you. He does like you.

When you break apart his smile is wide and almost goofy, then seemingly entirely contented. 

“Does this mean you’ll let me call you darling?”

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think about it. But, I can be convinced.” He pecks your lips again mid-chuckle. You feel giddy for the first time in a long time.

“I like this, just sitting here with you. It’s so…”

“Yes?”

“Calm? You have a very grounding presence and when I’m with you I don’t know, I’m just comfortable.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. It’s what drew me to you last night.”

“Ahh, yes. My sass can really shoot someone down to earth.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“I appreciate that, it usually feels like a bad thing.”

“It comes off as honesty, not sass. If that makes you feel better.”

“It does a bit. Thank you.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I think that’s mostly up to you. I tend to stay in the same place four days a week.”

“Four?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s very good news. Maybe I can visit you next weekend?”

“Really? You’d want to come to the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s somewhere if you’re there.” You could almost choke on how sweet he is. It’s uncomfortable, but welcome.

“If you want to, if you can.”

“I do.”

A buzz, but this time it’s not from your phone. Tom pulls it out and separates from you slightly leaning back. He glances at the screen and his shoulders lower.

“I have to go soon. Can I walk you back or somewhere, or…?”

“It’s ok. You go. I have lunch with Casey and Dakota soon.”

“Are you sure? I could-”

“I don’t think-I know they’re definitely not ready to find out about this.”

“Probably right.”

\------

Walking alone feels different somehow. Although, being able to see where you’re going is an advantage. 

There’s a restaurant near the theater Casey, Dakota, and you are supposed to meet at. But you could have walked by it and not even noticed. You’re spending more time in your head lately. 

An unmistakable buzz grounds you to the pavement.

_ Where are you? - Dakota _

_ Lost? I’m on my way, I swear! - Y/N _

_ Hurry! We have so much to talk about! - Dakota _

_ Can’t wait! - Y/N _

You are not far now, maybe two blocks. A lonely walk, but luckily a brief one. You’re looking forward to not thinking about what Tom said, because right now your head is spinning with the way he says your name, and how he calls you darling. You’ll have to get used to it. Hopefully.

Ah! Finally you’re at the restaurant. And can see Casey through the front window. Casey is always easy to spot. If anyone saw the two of you together they would for sure think it was Casey who caught Tom’s eye. She’d love the spotlight. How the two of you ended up in the same line of work is a mystery to you..

“Y/N!! Finally!! Gosh, what a night!! It was… WILD!” Casey is already talking 70 miles per hour and her eyes are wide and surprisingly alert.

“Tell me everything!”

“Well, you certainly missed a lot by going home early! I take that personally, by the way.”

“Sorry!”

“Well, anyway. We went to a club, and somehow I ended up dancing on a table top. Dakota ended up in the arms of some hot Canadian guy. And we didn’t get in until the sun was rising, and that’s only what I remember, Dakota?”

“I think you summed it up pretty well Case. You left the getting dragged from the table top and thrown out.”

“That makes for a boring story, Dakota.”

“I don’t know, I think it makes it better.” You smile at Dakota, much to Casey’s annoyance.

“God, you two! You’re basically the same person.”

“I don’t know, I stayed out with you, and Y/N left to go to bed.”

“True. Did you make it to the movie this morning?”

“Actually, no. Aunt Roberta definitely got the better of me. I’ve been inspired to never drink again, so thank you for that Casey.”

“Oh yeah, you say that now, but tonight you’ll be 5 G&T’s deep and brushing up against some hunky man.” She says confidently, looking around for the server.

Dakota arches an eyebrow pointedly at you and you feel a flush start to bloom.

“When you put it that way it sounds like Dakota and I are the same person.” Not a very artful dodge, but probably good enough to slide past Casey.

“EXACTLY!”

Finally a server appears to take an order. If there was any doubt before as to whether you had a hangover the copious amounts of carbs and fried food you just ordered put them to rest immediately.

“So, Y/N? What did you really get up to last night?” Shut up, Dakota. You shoot him a glare.

“Nothing too exciting, I promise. I left the bar and went right back to the hotel.”  Technically you’re not lying, but you know he’s disappointed. He was expecting something more exciting. 

Then you remember. The photos. There are probably photos of you leaving the bar with Tom somewhere. Oh no. That’s not great. That could be very bad. Your privacy, your friends, your family, your job… being seen with Tom could change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we'll go for more frequent shorter chapters. Let me know what you think.  
As always any thoughts, ideas, and feedback welcome!


	5. In Case of Casey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend the day with your friends, your head is somewhere else though. That is until Casey hints at knowing something about last night.

The lunch was uneventful. Thank God for that. An occasional buzz from your phone, though it was never who you were hoping. He’s in New York by now. He’s working. He has things to do. He didn’t forget. He basically promised he wouldn’t forget.

Dakota certainly hadn’t forgotten. Every time you made eye contact he arched an eyebrow at you. He couldn’t possibly know about last night or this morning, could he? No. But you never had walls up around Dakota. Not like this anyway. Not like Casey.

Luckily now you can stare at the screen of some film. The whole point of being here and you can’t be bothered to pay attention. Normally you’d consider it a waste, but you’re distracted by happier things. By an occasional flutter. Even in the dark theater, you want to pull out your phone, hoping there’s something from Tom. Anything that might put this worry at ease. You’re sure he’s messaged you in the hour you’ve been sitting here. Ugh. Stop it. You can’t turn yourself upside down and inside out over him. Focus. The film. What’s happening in the film? Whatever it is, it’s composed well. You’ll have to keep an eye out for the cinematographer in the credits. What else? The music. Listen to the music.It’s no use. You’re somewhere else completely. And this was supposed to be a fun trip, but you’re just filled with... whatever this keyed up and insecure, excited but secreted, almost vomit-y feeling is. Maybe tomorrow will be better? When you’re not hungover and you return to reality.

“Hey, Y/N!” Dakota is trying to snap you out of whatever world you’ve thought yourself into. The movie’s over and you’re just staring at the screen.

“Hmmm?”

“You ok?”

“Umm, yeah. I guess just don’t feel great.” You get up and follow the other audience members out of the theater.

“Do you feel up to the other films?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Hey guys I’m going to run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you out front, yeah?” As per usual Casey’s obliviousness is a blessing. You manage a nod and part, heading toward the door with Dakota.

“Sooo...?” Dakota’s eyebrow arch has evolved into an actual question as it was bound to do.

“What?”

“What really happened last night? You know after we left?”

“Oh, um...” your phone. Turn on your phone. “I basically went home once we split up.”

“Basically?” Ughhh can he not? Can he not pick up on the very obvious ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ signals you’re shooting at him?

“Yeah.” _Buzzzzzz. _“I closed out and got a ride back to the hotel.” Technically not untrue.

“Ok, Y/N. If you say so”

_Hey, just got a moment. Hope you’re having a great day. Any good films on the docket? Can I call you tonight? - Tom_

Relief.

“I do say so.” You make pointed eye contact. If looks could kill this one may have. He’s finally receiving your very adamant ‘Drop it. Now.’ signals.

_Hey, a few. Sure! Can I text you when I get in?_

_Looking forward to it! - Tom_

You pocket your phone.

“Ok, fine. How should we convince Casey to see an Indie film with us later?”

“Alcohol, Dakota. Alcohol.”Casey saunters up to the two of you. If she’s hungover there’s no sign of it now.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We won’t go out again.” We’ll just live glamorous lives in the hotel bar and get ready the drive home.”

You and Dakota share puzzled glances. “Ummmm, Casey? Is that you” Dakota places a hand on her forehead and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it is. Plus I think we have things to talk about Y/N.” She looks directly at you with a knowing glance. Oh no. Could she know? How could she? Don’t think about it.

“We do?” You’re not even convincing yourself.Casey just smiles and leads the way out of the theater.

“So, when is this next movie?”

“About half-hour” Dakota shoots you a questioning glance as you follow Casey.

“Oh good. If it’s boring, Y/N, I’ll never forgive you, but I may nap.”

——-

You actually paid attention to the next film and the one after that. They were actually decent. And it helped to know that Tom was waiting for you. The nervousness of Casey’s earlier statement remaining sufficiently at bay.The three of you had agreed to sit in the hotel bar and chat. As you waited with Dakota for Casey, as usual, your anxiety rose. What did she mean? What is there to talk about. Dakota luckily let you stew and ponder. He seemed to know when to give you space. Needless to say, you were looking forward to getting back to work.

  
“You two could try to look less depressed, you know,” Casey said floating towards the booth you and Dakota had chosen. It was far away from anyone else.Just in case.

“Ha Ha,” you mock, “You look nice for a chill night in the hotel bar!”She’s wearing a cute little dress. Emphasis on little. You’re hoping the compliment distracts her from potentially knowing what you’re hoping she doesn’t know.

“I do don’t I?” She sits down, drinks already ordered for the table. “Awww, you two really know what I like!”

“What are friends for,” you say partially begging her to be kind, to take the hint and forget.

“Speaking of friends, Dakota,” he looks up startled from his own silence “did you happen to notice who our friend here walked out of her room this morning?” She’d seen you. Oh no. How much did she see? No no no no.  
Dakota’s eyes are massive. You never thought human eyes could expand to such a size.

“You know, Casey, I did not!” He’s thrilled. You’re drinking.

“Y/N?” Casey continues the interrogation.

“Hmm? This morning?” Avoid. Avoid. A V O I D.

“Just went home did we?”  
“Well, I…”

“Y/N!! You did!! You just weren’t alone!!! AHHHH I’ve never been so proud!!” She is practically giddy. Oh, God.

“What?” You’re frankly befuddled, unsure if she knows what you know, or what Dakota correctly suspects.

“I mean I didn’t get a good look at him, but tall as hell and cute bod. Y/N!! You finally let go for a minute and something good happened!!” She’s congratulating herself just as much as she’s congratulating you. “It was good wasn’t it?”  
“Well, we didn’t, like do anything. I had a very strong drink and he offered to get me coffee in the morning. I promise.” Dakota is amazed, thrilled, captivated, and his jaw is barely hovering above the floor.

“Well, it’s a start! Frankly, Y/N it’s amazing. You need to just let go and get out of your own way!”

“Thanks, Casey.” You’re surprised. She’s right of course. You’re just surprised by her reaction. She lets out a contented sigh.

“I’m so glad we did this! This was such a fun time. Next year we should do more bars and fewer movies. The bars are where the action is.”

“I’ll say” Dakota chimes in.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” She shoots him knowing glance. Maybe you weren’t the only one with company last night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said shorter more frequent chapters? Yeah, that didn't really happen. I feel a little weird writing these given the Zawe news, but am going to try to work with it. Hopefully, this and the next chapter will help you all to forgive me! The next one will be up within 12 hours.


	6. Tell Me Something and Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You call Tom, as promised. You find yourself missing him and tripping over your tongue.

Y

You’re buzzed walking back to your room. Contented knowing your friends are on your side. They don’t know everything but what they know is enough. For now. Well, Casey for sure. Dakota on the other hand. There’s no real way of knowing.

you basically skip into your room, somehow navigating your way around your mess from this morning. This morning. It could have been months ago. You flop onto your bed, phone in hand.

_Hey, I’m in. Let me know when you’re free x - Y/N _

  
Sent.

You mosey to raid the minibar. It’s honestly worth it. You’re feeling better than good. You’re excited to talk to him. An interesting 24 hours.

_Buzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz. _

You look at your phone as you pour a drink, some vodka on ice sounds harmless enough after a few more G&T’s than you had anticipated. It’s him. You can’t help the smile.

“Hey you” Gin must make you flirty. You’re not normally a flirty person. It’s either the gin or him.

“Hello, darling.” Ok. It’s him. The word still slows you down, but it’s growing on you.

“Did you have a good day?” What kind of question is that? Who knew you were 2 years into a relationship and had run out of things to say to each other?

“I had a wonderful morning.” He means you. You smile and bite your lip a little as you sip on your drink.

“You did?”

“Definitely.”  
“And the rest of the day?”

“Oh,just work. Play things.”

“Play things or playing things” an attempt at a joke he’s kind enough to laugh at.

“A little of both I guess.”

“Makes sense.”

“What about you? Did you enjoy the films?”

“Mmmm well, I was a little distracted.”

_silence._

You wish he were here. You wouldn’t hesitate now. You wouldn’t push him away now. You’d do almost anything to draw him in. That may be the gin too, maybe the vodka, maybe him, probably all three.

“Is it weird…” You start but stop yourself. Words don’t count. You can stop yourself from saying stupid things. You give yourself that permission.

“Is what weird, darling?”

“Is it weird to say I miss you?”

_silence._

“I just, I wish things were different, that maybe last night was-“

“Last night was lovely.”  
“It was.”

“I miss you too.”

“You do?”

“Yes, more than I thought I would.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Your eyebrow arches in its typical fashion. He laughs.

“Definitely. I was hoping to hear from you all day.” He was? Should you have texted him?

“I’m sorry.”

“Darling,” he’s scolding you, “only say sorry when you’ve done something wrong” You can’t help but laugh.

“Ok, fine.”

“Y/N?”

“Tom?”

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“I will if you will.”

“Deal.”

“Hmmm, let me think.”You can’t think. All of a sudden there’s nothing in your head at all.

“You’re a very good thinker, Y/N”

“Right, sorry. Umm, ok. I like to smell books.”

“What?”

“Like in used book stores. I like the smell of old books.”

“Y/N, that’s not what you said, you said you like to smell them.”

“I do. Almost nothing beats the smell of an old book.” You’re pouring another drink. Not looking forward to that bill at check out.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.” He laughs.

“Well, alright then. What about you?”

“Hmmm, there was a period in my childhood when I was terrified of falling in water. Baths, rivers, lakes, anything. Don’t know what it was exactly, and I grew out of it, but for almost a year my family dealt with my irrational fear.”

“I’m sure they were all relieved when you outgrew it.”

“I think thrilled is perhaps more accurate.”

“Were you a happy child?” Too personal? You just hope he doesn’t ask you the same thing.

“I would say so. I mean, there were rough parts, but I always felt loved and supported. That’s what I want for my kids on day. If I have them.” Um, Tom, what are you supposed to say to that?

“I’m sure you will. You’ll be a great dad.” WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? Is that ok to say?

“Thanks. What about you?” Ugh, you hate him for that.

“Was I a happy child or what do I want for my children?” Oooo excellent redirect, you are skillful.

“Either I guess, or both.” He’s trying to get to know you, stop putting your guard up!

“I think I want my children to be happy. I don’t want them to worry about their parents. I want them to know what a loving relationship looks like. Ups and downs. That solving problems together is more important than winning an argument.”

_silence._

Fuck.

“It sounds like you’ll be a good mom.”

“Haha, I don’t know. I’m a big fan of the‘raising adults, not children’ parenting style” Why are you discussing parenting styles with someone you’ve known for 25 hours? This is not a normal conversation, you know that, right?

“Interesting.” Judgment. Great.

“What do you think?”

“Well, I think children should have full childhoods. You never get the wonder of it back, and you don’t miss it until it’s gone.”

“That’s true. I just want my kids to be able to face the world too. I want them to have a magical childhood, but also as they grow to treat them as competent individuals, whole people, enough as they are. That their ideas are just as important as ours” FUCK. You said ours. fuckfuckfuckfuck. “err like their parents. That they are a part of the family and it’s not a strict hierarchy.” Did he notice? Did he? You tried to gloss over it but you clearly said “ours.”

“I love that.” You love that he loves that. He didn’t call you out on it. He may think you’re in too deep, but he’s not rubbing your face in it. “See, you will be a great mom. What about the other question?”

“Oh.” Shit. He didn’t forget. You’d forgotten. “Um, I would say I was a really nervous child. I don’t think it was a ‘happy’ childhood” those unmistakable air quotes just highlight how uncomfortable you are with this question, “but I was content. I guess happy enough.”

_silence._

“I hope to make you happy, Y/N. I know we don’t know each other well enough yet, but I do.” Ughh the charm of it all.

“I hope to make you happy too, Tom.” Tom. So simple. This is simple. This is lovely. This is good enough. The only thing that could make it better is if he were here. You could use a hug right now. The comfort of his arms is something so easily missed. Something you hadn’t expected to miss so soon. This is a lot. It’s a little overwhelming. You feel a few tears stinging your eyes. They may be laced with gin and vodka, but they’d probably be there anyway after that.

_ silence._

“Y/N? Are you there?”

“Umm, yeah.” Your voice is a little shakey, the hint of some tears.

“Are you ok?”  
“Yeah” you don’t even believe yourself.

“Are you sure?”  
“Yeah, I will be. I didn’t see that coming.”   
“What can I do?” He doesn’t need to do anything. He’s not responsible for that, for you.

“Um, just talk to me for a bit. Anything really, I just want to hear your voice.”

And he does. He talks as long as you need him to. He tells you stories you’d never heard before. He tells you about all his friends. And you listen. Chiming in every once in a while. You cling to his voice, fighting off sleep. He hears the drowsiness and wishes you a good night and sweet dreams and you’re still not fully convinced you’re not living a dream. You know he’s putting a lot on the line to make you comfortable, to help you ease into this. This is something you want, but you keep finding yourself in your head. You need to get out of your own way. But thinking about it puts you right back in your head. This is not something you’ll be able to think your way out of, you’re going to have to feel a way out. Hopefully with him. Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this gives you all a little something to enjoy. Let me know what you think!  
As always all feedback is welcome!


	7. Disappointments and Compromises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text interrupts an already frustrating day and you have some important choices to make.

Somehow you managed to keep your foot out of your mouth and stay out of your head for almost a week. You had made it through FaceTime after FaceTime of potentially awkward conversations with ease and grace. You? Graceful? Yes. Believe it or not.Tom has that effect on you. You’re still nervous every time your phone buzzes.Your heart flutters when he smiles at you, and stops when he calls you darling. Darling. His darling? You may never be able to wrap you head around that one.

He’s coming to visit. In two days. He is visiting you. For a whole weekend. No pressure. If one thing is certain it’s that there will be no camera flashes, no shouts or anonymous criticisms. Just a normal weekend. A time to really get to know each other. You couldn’t be more excited. You also can’t show it. Definitely not to Casey, but not to Dakota either. not yet. Not until you are really sure.Sure of what? Sure that a chaotic weekend lasts. Sure that it’s worth it. Sure that you can handle it. Because if not it isn’t fair to either of you.

_Buzzzzzz._

Your phone brings you back to work. You stare at the analyses. They haven’t been working out despite your most diligent efforts. You pour through your code. Again. Fix what you can. Again. Run it. Again. As the script scrolls by you look at your phone.

_Hello darling. Can we talk? xx - Tom_

He knows if he texts you during work you can’t respond right away. And you know not to read too far into it when he asks to talk.

_Sure, give me a minute? - Y/N_

_As many as you want xx - Tom_

You look back at the screen. Your code stalled out again. _You’re not angry, just disappointed_. Your parents voices echo through your head. But it’s a good stopping point. You lock your computer and make your way to the garden level of the building. You wouldn’t let Tom catch you calling it a garden because it’s half of a patch of grass and a table near the parking lot. It’s usually empty around this time, but if it isn’t you can go to your car. Luckily it looks as though you have the ‘garden’ to yourself. You pull out your phone and sit on the tabletop. The phone rings only one and a half times before you hear a voice you’re coming to know.

“Hello, you.” His voice is flatter than you had expected. Less animated than normal.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to call you at work, I just…” You hear voices in the background. As you usually do when he calls. He’s usually around people. Something you have never been good at, and definitely something you’re going to have to get used to if…. well, potentially, but not anytime soon.

“Oh, no worries, you’re honestly saving me from myself right now.”

“That bad?”

“Let’s say not that good.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, but I’ll be glad to not look at it for a few days, that’s for sure.”

“Ah.” Uh oh. That didn’t sound good. It sounds like he’s getting ready to disappoint you.

“Ah?” Let him tell you, don’t assume the worst, don’t try to read his mind.

“Well….” he really is making this painful. “I know we talked about me visiting you this weekend, I just, I really can’t take off work.” He says it like he’s letting you down. You had come to this realization when you were talking about his schedule.

“That’s ok.” Honestly, you should have known. Better yet, you should have been a better person and told him to focus on the play, that you’d figure something else out.

“It isn’t. I shouldn’t have told you I could make it if I didn’t know”

“Tom, really, it’s ok. I wouldn’t ask you to compromise your work, I probably should have-“ He cuts you off.

“No. Y/N.-“ You return the favor.

“Yes, Tom. You have an obligation to the work you’re doing, it is important to you, and that should take priority.” Why exactly are you scolding him for apologizing? He’s quiet for a bit.

“You’re right. I don’t like to go back on my word or have you think I didn’t mean what I said or that I don’t want to come out there.” He may be in his head as much about this as you were. Are? Have a tendency to be.

“I don’t think that. Do I wish I could see you? Of course.But I’m not going to Yoko Ono your play or your career.” He lets out a chuckle. It’s the one you hear most when he’s trying to hide a laugh. You smile to yourself. You’re disappointed but would be more disappointed in him if he didn’t stay in New York. You’d be disappointed in yourself if you asked him to leave. Life is full of disappointments.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

“Save your sorries, Tom.” You try to say it reassuringly, that’s how you mean it anyway. Someone is talking to him in the background again. “Do you have to go?”

“No, not yet.”

_Silence._

That hasn’t happened since you left Toronto. When you both sit in silence, unsure of what to say next.

“I know it’s not the same, but would you want to come here?”

“To New York?”

“Yeah. I have to work this weekend but I have Mondays and most of Tuesdays off. We could explore the city together, we could stay in. Whatever you want to do.” You’re shocked.

“Tom, I don’t know if I can.” You’re shocked. You don’t want a repeat of Toronto. Not so soon. But you did just say that you wanted to see him.

“Right, of course. I know it’s a lot to ask after… We will work something out.” You hear the disappointment in his voice and it drags your stomach like an anchor to the seafloor. You have a more flexible life. Your work is easier to navigate. But you can’t shake the uneasiness.

“Let me… Let me check?” He’s silent, and the silence makes you wish you had FaceTimed instead. It’s easier when you can see his face.

“Only if you want to, Y/N. Please. Only if you’re sure.” You’re not. You’re really not.

“I’ll see. I should be getting back anyway. I’ll call you tonight?”

“Please do.”

"Alright, talk to you later." 

"Looking forward to it, darling." You hang up and spin your phone in your hands. All of this makes you nervous. You feel your chest tighten and your head starts racing. What exactly are you doing? What are you starting?

You make your way back to your computer and only unlock it long enough to see if your supervisor is in her office. She is. Guess this is a conversation you’re having now.

Your boss was excited to have you work for another day. “It’ll be really great if we can have that code run before the weekend” were her exact words. Five days in a row of at least 10 hours sounds like torture at this point. But you're thankful that your boss is generally pretty flexible and generally understanding. Well, this one was easy for her. You felt uneasy the entire time. Maybe once you tell Tom it’ll be better.Now if you have to tell Casey you traded a Friday off for a Monday, and that you may trade them indefinitely, you will never hear the end of it. Somehow you had managed to avoid talking too much to either Casey or Dakota. Not that you wouldn't want to, you just don't fully trust yourself. Not with this thing with Tom. Definitely couldn't explain it to either of them since you don't really know yourself.

All you can do is sit down at your computer and work on the code. All you want to do is have it run and go home. Just focus. Focus on what makes sense.

——————

You stumble through the door to your apartment. You stayed at work for 13 hours. All you want to do is pour yourself a glass of wine, take off your shoes and your bra, and call Tom. Not necessarily in that order. Tom won’t be free for at least another hour. So the other things take priority. You send him a quick text though.

_Thinking of you, break a leg tonight! Talk to you later x - Y/N_

Shoes. Bra. Wine. That’s the order you settle on. Comfort is the aim tonight. Netflix will definitely help. You laugh to yourself as you sip your wine. This is the closest to "Netflix and chill" you’ve been in a while. Since you moved for sure. Oh well. You browse your laptop for flights to New York as your TV plays something you can't be bothered to attend to. The idea of an early morning flight makes you groan, but the thought of Tom wrapping you up at the airport is beyond lovely. He wouldn’t of course. Not there. He’ll probably meet you in a car, not wanting to draw extra attention to you. Not risking another Toronto. Maybe you’ll just surprise him? There’s not much difference to you. But you promised to talk about it and you don’t know him well enough yet to know what he’d want you to do.

Just buy the ticket and let him know. Put in a little more effort. It’s the least you can do, honestly.

You’re not even watching the show, movie, or whatever. You’re just thinking into your glass of wine as you scroll the travel sites. You want to know what will work for him best. You don’t want to get in his way, be a distraction, but you wouldn’t mind spending a little time with him. If you're going to New York for this man he best make a little time for you. You don’t realize how long you’d been scrolling until the FaceTime notification pops up on your screen. It’s late. You’re tired. You definitely look like you spent 13 hours at work. How can he resist you like this?

“Hey, Tom” he’s at his apartment. Something you've seen enough of to recognize over the past few days. He’s sitting slumped into his sofa just like you are. Maybe you two are more similar than you thought?

“Hello, darling!”

“How’d the show go?”

“Yeah, great! The audience was amazing, I didn’t forget a line, so I can’t complain.”

“That sounds good!”

“What about you? Did your day get any better?”

“Oh, you know. It had its ups and downs.”

“Tell me about your ups?” Ahhh the optimism is something you're still not used to.

“I finished a piece of this big project we’re working on. Nothing too exciting, but it’s been a pain in my ass all week.”

“That’s huge!” He’s not wrong, it’s a decent accomplishment. You just can’t be excited after 13 hours. 13 hours. Ughhhh.

“Thanks.” You can’t look at him, you don’t know how to bring New York up without coming off as clingy or desperate.

“What’s going on Y/N? Why so shy all of a sudden?”

“Well” You start to smile, you try to hide it as long as you can, “I talked to my boss about this weekend.”

“Aaaaand??” You can hear the smile spread across his face but still don't dare look at him.

“Aaaaand I switched my off day from Friday to Monday.”

“Really?!”

“Yep.” You nod and do your best to hide your uncertainty.

“That’s amazing, darling. Truly. I don’t deserve you!” You have to laugh. You hadn’t expected him to be so excited. Or to say that last part. You tuck it away to remind yourself to be less nervous.

“So…”

“So what?” He’s just beaming at you.

“So what is good for you?”

“Let me see what there is.”

“I just have to be back before work on Tuesday.”

“I would prefer you also slept, though. I’m sure your boss would appreciate it, too. And I want to stay on her good side.”

“Probably smart.”

“Is an 8 AM flight too early for you to get here?”

“No, but what are you doing?”

“I am buying you a ticket.”

“Tom, no!”

“Y/N, yes!”

“Tom, stop let me buy my own ticket.”

“Please let me, I owe you at least this much for changing plans, for having you shift your life around for me. Please.” Well shit, when he puts it that way. It doesn't help that he's staring right at you with those eyes of his.

“Ok.” You surrender willingly.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t change your life around for a man. You had decided to take care of yourself, to put yourself first. You don’t want to lose your entire identity, to be absorbed by someone else into a life you don’t recognize. This isn’t that, is it? No. Not yet anyway. It’s just a compromise. Probably one of many you’re going to have to make. But for now, it’s worth it. For now, you want to.


	8. New York Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally land in New York and can't wait to see Tom, luckily you won't have to wait too long.

If you had any superpower it would be sleeping on planes.You can usually be asleep before they finish walking through the safety card. Is that a good thing? Hard to know, you’re asleep. You also have a talent for waking up before snacks and landing. Only the important things. But not this time. Despite being desperately tired. Having driven yourself to the airport at 4 AM to catch your 6 AM flight you would think sleep would come easily. It didn’t. Sleep has been difficult since Tom sent you your itinerary. Nothing fancy, thank goodness. But he did spring for a window seat. A sweet sentiment and you get to watch the sunrise. It’s the first sunrise you’ve seen in a long time. You’re decidedly a night person. And you love to sleep. It makes this “not sleeping on a plane despite being actually exhausted after two days of no sleep” thing very unusual for you. You’re not sure if your nervous or excited. Happy to see him or dreading it entirely. You can think yourself into and out of anything it seems. You even spent a few moments thinking he would ignore you all weekend. Forget to pick you up. Purposefully throw you to the rabid paparazzi and a hundred other embarrassing unlikely events. You need to allow yourself to relax. Allow yourself to feel happy. Allow yourself to breathe.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

Better. Not great but better. You’re supposed to land soon. You didn’t check a bag. You can travel for a week out of a backpack. Thanks to that trip you took with friends while studying abroad in Spain. Hostels and picnics, walking tours, and sangria. So much sangria. You think of how lovely Spain is in the spring, how easy life was then. How you’d love a siesta. The pilot comes on the intercom and announces the descent. New York - The City That Never Sleeps. Maybe it’ll allow a nap?

When you do land you whip out your phone, turn off the airplane mode and immediately text Tom.

_Hey, just landed! xx - Y/N_

_Great! I sent a car to pick you up. xx - Tom_

So he didn’t come after all. You’re not surprised, not disappointed. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you feel the anticipation of seeing him grow. You allow yourself to feel excited. You’ll be able to hold his hand soon. Maybe sneak a hug every once in a while, maybe a cheeky kiss? The possibilities are infinite in person!You’ll hear that laugh, you’ll watch his eyebrows dance up and down as he tells a story, maybe catch a play, or two, or four!Does he have anything planned? You sure as shit don’t. Should you have planned something? NO. Y/N, stop it. Do not do it. Good thoughts only. The smell of him. That’s a good thing. You don’t fully remember it, but miss it all the same.

You fly off the plane. Race your way to the ground transportation and stop. Where exactly are you supposed to go? You scan the people for a familiar face and remember he sent a car, so a sign? You look for your name. Scanning a few signs, you finally spot your name scrolled on awhite sheet of paper in blue marker. “_Please don’t kidnap me!” _you think as you wave and walk towards the driver. He’s a small man, older with tight white curls and a white goatee.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Hello, miss. I’m Steven. Should we grab your luggage?”

“Ah, this is it!” You raise the shoulder your backpack is hanging off of, and he just stares at it.

“I see, well, allow me…” He offers his hand to carry it for you, but you worry he might just tip over under its weight.

“Oh, that’s fine!” You say politely, smiling at an ungodly hour would be far more difficult if you weren’t slightly delirious because of the sleep deprivation.  
“If you insist, miss, let me show you to the car.”

You follow Steven as he walks surprisingly quickly. He probably could have handled your backpack and any other bag you might have brought. Perhaps you’re just a slow walker? Everyone seems to out stride you. It’s a relatively short walk to the car and you feel the anticipation rise. You’re that much closer to Tom.

The door opens from the inside, and you see that face you’ve been missing.

“Hey, you!”

“Hey” You just stand there smiling at him, not really believing you just flew to see him.

“Would you like to get in?” You laugh a little and step into the car.

Tom moves only far over enough for you to sit and immediately wraps you up in a comforting and consuming hug. You hear him inhale deeply, nestling his head into your neck and hair.

“Tom, I just got off a plane, I probably smell like recycled air.” he pulls back to cradle your face in his hands.

“You smell wonderful.” He just stares into your eyes. Those blue eyes. Though they look a little green in this light. “I’ve really missed you.”

“You have?”

“I didn’t know how much until now.” He says it earnestly as if he’s surprised by it.

“I missed you too.” You don’t know when the car started moving, but you’re vaguely aware of the car moving. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m really happy you came to pick me up.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”You lean into him and he drapes his arms around you. “Thank you for coming. I know we had other plans, I wanted to-“

“It’s ok, Tom. I’m happy I came too.”

“I know. I will make it up to you, though. I promise.”

His fingers are leaving trails along your arm. It soothes you. You could fall asleep right there if you wanted to.His hand wanders to your hip and rests comfortably there. You breathe him in, more subtly, and try to commit it to memory.

“Tom?”

“Hmmm?”

“Want to start making it up to me?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, naughty boy. “Coffee?” He laughs, mostly at himself.

“I should have brought some for you, as soon as we get home I will personally construct something to your liking.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, as long as it’s a French press.”

“As long as it’s coffee.” You lean up and kiss him on the cheek. He tenses up, and you freeze. Did you do something wrong?

Before you can further the thought he has your face cupped and his mouth on yours. It isn’t fast or hurried. Not rushed or frantic as it had been. It is sweet and soft. Sweet is nice and all, but your exhaustion has made you impatient. Once content enough to be near him, now you can’t be near enough. You shift in your seat, drop your backpack to the floor and wrap your arms around his neck. Snaking your fingers into his hair. His hands drop to your waist, hook onto your hips and lift you onto his lap. It’s a similar position you were in almost a week ago, but this time you’re not as nervous, your head is spinning but not with booze or your own self-doubt. This time it’s just desire, it’s just wanting to be around him, to be near him. 

You’re the one to break away. Come up for air is more accurate. You're both breathing heavily, eyes half-closed. Suddenly a jolt. You’re both flung backward to the partition.

Stephen, who had been silent on the other side lets a muffled curse out directed at another driver. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Luckily he's been ignoring the two of you or else you'd be dead from embarrassment.

You smile at Tom let out a breathy laugh but he’s just staring at you. Eyes dark, breath heavy. You can only imagine what he’s thinking. You sit next to him and put your seatbelt on not wanting to fall backward again, although not thrilled by the separation. Tom follows suit but turns to face you.

“So umm, what are our plans for the weekend?”

“Well, hmm-“ he clears his throat and composes himself a little, placing a hand just above your knee hesitantly. You were just in his lap, and you’re not really sure what he’s uncertain about. “We’ll go to the apartment and drop your stuff off. I have a show pretty soon actually so maybe we’ll grab a late lunch or grab dinner after and you can come to the show tonight? ”

“Yeah, sounds good. Should I, um, should I just wait?” He looks at his hand on your leg, he draws small circles into your jeans.

“I um, I wanted to give you time if you wanted to rest or freshen up, but if you want to come to the matinee -“

“Oh, no, I mean, I want to see the show, it sounds great, but freshening up sounds great, maybe a nap.”

“You’re not a morning person are you?”You shake your head at him.

“Not even a little bit!” He smiles and plants a quick peck on your lips. Soon you'll have uninterrupted time alone together. Maybe not as soon as you want, maybe later than you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this one niggling at me, will post more about their weekend hopefully sooner rather than later. Wanted to post something short and sweet in the meantime. Thank you to everyone for reading, I only hope you're enjoying it!
> 
> As always, any thoughts, comments, or questions are welcome!


	9. Admiration and Expectation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first day with Tom in New York seems to be simple. A walk and dinner before the show. The conversation during dinner takes a more serious turn when Tom catches you a little off guard. Will he live up to his promises? Will you?

You step out of the car, backpack in one hand, and the other hanging patiently by your side, waiting for Tom to take it as hesteps out behind you. But he doesn’t. His hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards a set of steps leading to a hotel. His hand quickly drops to his side after a few steps. He walks beside you through the lobby and to an elevator. He looks down mostly, doesn’t stand too close to you, doesn’t speak to you, and you just follow. Silence until the doors close behind you.

“Sorry, darling. There tend to be people just hanging around trying to get a picture of me since…”

“It’s ok, I understand. I guess it comes with the territory.” You don’t want to focus on the ’since.’

_Silence._

“Oh, um, Bobby is here.”

“I hoped so!” You don’t mean to sound as excited as you do.

“I promise he’s super well behaved, he gets walked and you won’t have to do anything for him, but he may pester you for a cuddle or a pat.”

“I love him already.” You had fallen in love with the Bobby over FaceTime. He loved Tom clearly, just looking at him with adoration and utter devotion. Who could blame him? “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind, especially while you’re working.”

“Oh, um I arranged for his walks, but we can walk him together later if you’d like.”

“I would love to” You would. Truly and honestly. It would almost be normal. So far very little is normal between you and Tom. It can be a little overwhelming. The distance has made it easier, but there’s still so much uncertainty.

The doors open and you follow his direction. He opens a door at the end of a hall and reveals a suite, one very similar to the one he had in Toronto. From what you can remember, anyway. Bobby comes running to great Tom who immediately steps in and drops to a knee to offer ear scratches.

“Did you miss me? It’s only been a few hours! Aww I missed you too!” Bobby sits wagging his tail, looking at him, trying to lick him occasionally, but Tom dodges them. Suddenly, Bobby realizes a new scent, a new person, you! He walks over to you dancing a little with excitement and you can’t resist bending over to give him a good pet and belly rub.

“Oh hello there!! It’s so good to meet you!” Tom closes the door behind you, picks up your bag which you had abandoned in favor of playing with Bobby. A choice you will never hesitate to make. Tom starts to wander around, tidying up a little bit, moving from room to room.

“Make yourself comfortable. There’s a small kitchenette through there, the bedroom is that way, and there’s a bathroom in there if you um, if you need to freshen up at all.” You think you catch a blush when he turns to walk into the bedroom and places your bag on a chair across from the bed, returning mere moments later. By which time you had given Bobby a final pat and let him run free to meander as dogs will. “Um as you can see, couch, chairs, television, there are some books scattered about if you feel inclined.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Your awkwardness was thoroughly relieved by Bobby. If only he could follow you and Tom around everywhere and give you a reassuring look every once in a while.

“I want you to feel comfortable here, safe, especially while I’m gone.” He walks to you andrubs your arms comfortingly, gazing into your eyes as you glance around. “So, coffee? I think I have enough time to press you a glass or I can put the kettle on if you’d prefer tea?”

"Thanks,” you say, trying to reassure the both of you that you’re going to be comfortable here, with this, especially if Bobby isn’t always around, “I think I’ll just um, ‘freshen up’ and get some rest before this afternoon.” You quirk an eyebrow at him and smile. You go on tiptoes and peck him innocently on the lips. He had to lean down a bit to make up for the height difference, a sweet gesture.

“Alright, darling, if you’re sure.” He looks at his watch and sights, “I better be off., but text me if you need anything.” He leans down and lets his kiss linger a little longer.

“Will do, but I’m confident Bobby will be able to help me out and show me the ropes.” He laughs a little as he walks to the door.

“Oh! Here’s a spare key in case you two want to do anything while I’m out.”

“Thanks, Tom.” He stares back at you, walking backwards toward the door, just staring at you.

“Right, um, better-“

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“Oh Tom” you shout after him.

“Yes?”

“Break a leg.” He smiles back at you as he leaves.

You’re alone. Again. Although not really, because you had Bobby. Poor, Bobby, he sat at the door starring, waiting, hoping for Tom to come home.

“Me too, buddy, me too.”

You turn to the suite behind you. It looks like a hotel. The same inconspicuous furniture that lacks character that seems to be in every hotel, or some variation of it anyway. You slip out of your shoes and wander around, looking for the personal items that may have accumulated. He’s only been here a little over a month, but surely there are bound to be some hints of him laying about. Bobby definitely lives there. Theres a kennel, toys, blankets, a leash, all the dogginess a dog could hope for. You see a few scripts on the coffee table, a few pens, the ring of a coffee mug, one sofa cushion that’s more indented than the others. The remote for the TV untouched and slightly dusty sitting by the set.

You walk into the bedroom with Bobby padding along behind you. The bedroom. There’s one bed. You didn’t know what you had expected, but… well, it surely hadn’t crossed your mind until now that there would be only one bed. Bobby makes it very clear that the bed is for sharing by hopping up and smiling at you. You give him the pets who so rightly deserved. You look at the nightstand where a few books lay stacked, more pens, and another coffee cup ring. Each book with a separate bookmarker. You smile at the thought of him reading. Curled up in bed, splayed out on the couch, or maybe pacing around the hotel furniture running lines, walking through scripts. Making notes here and there, sipping on tea. Running his hands through his hair, scratching his chin, his brow furrowed in contemplation or concentration. You smile at the thought.

“What will we do, Bobby? Hmm?” He quirks his head at you, and you decide to continue exploring.

You make your way to the bathroom thinking a shower, or at least a splash of water will refresh you. The counter is unremarkable. A few basic hygiene items, and a ton of hair products. Makes sense, though. his hair is better than yours, honestly. You splash some water, rub your eyes, and gaze at the mirror. What beauty, what grace, what very apparent sleep deprivation. A splash is not going to do it. Shower it is.

Fancy hotel showers are great. Usually anyway. This one looks promising. You grab your bag and unpack your evening clothes.Just a white blouse to pair with your darker pants, a soft and flowing cream color. You hang the blouse on the door in hopes of removing some of the travel wrinkles without having to exert any actual effort. You let the bathroom fill with steam from the shower and feel yourself unwind just a bit. The hot water hitting your skin seems to melt away the tension, the nervousness, and at least some of the worry. You could sleep in this shower. Could, but probably shouldn’t. You step out and wrap yourself in a freshly folded towel. Bobby walks in and licks at your feet. You laugh and walk past him. The feeling of sleep overtakes you. And honestly, what harm would a quick nap do? Tom will be busy until the afternoon anyway and Bobby seems as content as can be.

You change into some fresh clothes and start to walk towards the bed. You slip on top of the bed to the empty room around you when you hear a buzzing from your bag.

_About to go on, so glad you came! xx - Tom_

He wanted you to be comfortable, to feel safe here, Bobby will surely see to it even if Tom isn’t always here. Can you blame Tom, though? Really? He’s working and the fact that he picked you up should be enough considering.

_Me too xx - Y/N_

You set an alarm for an hour hoping to nod off quickly and be able to meet Tom like you had planned without looking like you had literally just rolled out of bed. You recline onto the bed and nestle into the pillows. They smell like him. You inhale deeply and drift to sleep as Bobby curls into you and rests his head on your let. It's a really comforting gesture.

———

You wake up before the alarm goes off. Usually it would irk you as though you had stolen precious sleep from yourself. But you feel so much better and the last thing you want to do is oversleep. You need to change, put on a little makeup and decide to go for a bit of a walk. Maybe take Bobby with you? But if you don’t come back, what will you do then? No. Remember Tom said the two of you might walk him together.

You decide to wait on him, perhaps curl up with a book as he had suggested. However short it may be until he returns. You change and apply a bit of makeup. You’ve never been particularly good at applying makeup, you had learned the basics and are intent on keeping it that way. You look for for a book to read. He has Shakespeare, of course. _Coriolanus, Othello, MacBeth_, and _Hamlet_ it seems, along with several of the Henrys. You smile as imagine him imagining himself as a character in each. A small collection of sonnets, all of which you had read. Extensively. Remember when you wanted to study Shakespearean literature and only Shakespearean literature? You were enthralled by the romance of literature, by the never-ending possibilities, the innumerable interpretations, the carefully constructed chaos, the thrilling music in the prosody and cadence, the disastrous downfalls and tragedies. All of it had been a world apart, until it wasn’t. That was when you realized you needed a little more security than the overflowing market of literature majors. How you ended up in medical research is a little bit of mystery to you, but it came as a relief to your family. Well, most of them anyway. You are decidedly not in the mood for Shakespeare. You go to the living room in search of something else to read. A pile of scripts, white and pink, are stacked on top of something else. You know better than to pry without permission. You lift them carefully, taking extra care not to even glance at the titles. _Any Human Heart_, is buried beneath. It’s something you hadn’t read. So you slink into the sofa and open to the first page of text.

That is when you notice the scribblings. Little notes Tom had left himself. It’s like peering into his mind. First you close the book. Feeling like an intruder. Then you remember his offer to you. He had given you permission.

You try to focus on the words and actually read the book, but your mental fortitude is wearing down and your curiosity is getting the better of you. You barely notice when Bobby again curls by your feet while you’re pursuing his marginalia. They tell you the story through his eyes. You’re an observer of an observer, and so deeply enthralled that you don’t realize your phone had buzzed. On the third reminder it finally manages to draw you from the scrawls on the pages.

_On my way home, coffee? xx - Tom_

You quickly type out a reply:

_I wouldn’t say no, an iced latte please? No worries if it is too late xx - Y/N_

_It is never too late! This is New York and coffee abounds. Be home soon xx - Tom_

“Home.” What interesting word to use. You hadn’t realized you’d said it aloud until Bobbypatted his paw at you. “Yes, Bobby, your dad is coming home! And we may go for a w-a-l-k!” At that Bobby bursts off the sofa, to a different room with his boundless energy an indication that he very well may be able to spell. You set the book down and hurry after him, deciding a little play will expel the nervous energy rising inside you. It isn’t long before Bobby’s head snaps to attention, nose pointing at the door. It can mean only one thing. Suddenly he bolts to the door and you slowly follow behind. The door opens and Tom balances two coffees while also taking care to not let Bobby slip past him into the hall. If you had ever seen a man in need of assistance, it was him and it was now.

“Let me help.”

“Ah, thank you darling.” He hands you your cup and closes the door with a foot while giving Bobby a few happy pats with the other. You take up your place on the sofa where you had been reading and Tom quickly follows behind you.

“How was the show?” You ask as he sits beside you sipping at his coffee.

“Ah, not my best, not the worst. I was slightly distracted.”

“I’m sure you were great. What was distracting you?”

“Well, it sounds ridiculous and cliché, but you were.”

“It does have that ring to it, but I’m not entirely mad about it.” You smile at him coyly.

“So, what do you want to do for the day?”

“Hmm, I guess that depends, how long do we have?” He arches an eyebrow at you, but you swear you hadn’t meant it like that.

“Um, well, I don’t have to be back at the theatre for another three hours or so.”

“Well, you promised me and Bobby a walk,” Bobby prances excitedly “and some food.”

“Then a walk and some food it is. Bobby - lead.” Bobby runs to his crate and picks up his lead and returns it to Tom.

“Hey, neat trick!” You're complimenting Bobby more than Tom, but they both seem to appreciate it.

“He’s a very smart boy.”

“That he is!” You can’t help yourself from petting Bobby. He’s adorable and deserves all the attention.

You walk with Tom and Bobby. You’re hesitant at first. Overly observant. Too tense to relax into Tom’s stride let alone take a hand. Your glasses hide your darting eyes. When you finally do relax it just so happens to be as Tom picks up Bobby’s poop. Nothing will bring you back to earth like that. If no one is taking a picture of him doing this, no one will be taking a picture of you at all. That’s the real money shot, not him walking with a relative stranger. New York is an easy place to disappear into. You feel bad you haven’t been paying the most attention to Tom as he chatters on. You grab onto the hand that was freed when the coffee ran out and give it a squeeze.

“We had better get this guy home before grabbing some food.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” You smile at him and follow him as he redirects your small party back toward the hotel. “Speaking of plans-“

“Yes?”

“It sounds like you’re planning on staying state-side for a while?” It’s not really a question in and of itself but you phrase it that way.

“Well the show closes in December, so I had planned on going home for the holidays, then I start shooting something else in Georgia in the New Year. So for the foreseeable future, yes.”

“Good to know.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He smiles at you’ll laughing at your attempt to subtly retrieve information from him.

“Can I ask what the Georgia project is?”

“Well, I’m technically sworn to secrecy.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Having said that, the script was on the coffee table, so I suspect you already know.”

“Well-“

“Well?”

“I didn’t want to look.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it felt like an invasion.”

“Darling, you're too sweet,” he chuckles at your innocence, “truthfully, I do appreciate the consideration.”

“They’re trade secrets, right? And it’s definitely _not _my trade.”

“Touché.”

“Just kidding, I’ve read all the scripts, copied all the pages, and sent them to everyone.” You say sarcastically and move to wrap an arm around his waist for a light squeeze.

“Cheeky” He responds with a chuckle and squeezes you back but doesn’t let go. You relax into him and he adjusts his gait to accommodate your smaller strides. We can’t all be 6’2, Tom. You continue to walk like that back to the hotel,but separate a block or two away. You assume it’s because there’s a radius within which you are more likely to be bombarded or intruded upon.

———

He had led you to an inconspicuous restaurant, no reservation required, jeans allowed. You try to sit patiently as you wait for your food. You are ravenous but trying to be a little composed. You’re not that comfortable around him yet.Comfortable enough to sit more beside him than across for him in the rounded booth along the wall of the restaurant. He must be hungry too, because as soon as the food comes, you both tuck in. Eating in a relatively comfortable silence until you’ve almost finished.

“So…” you let it linger, inviting a more substantive conversation than previous remarks on the food or the wine.

“Hmm?” He hums in response.

“Are you excited for tonight?” Brilliant topic, what wit.

“For the show?”

“Yeah.”

“More nervous than excited, I think.”

“Really, why?”

“First, every audience is different. Matinees tend to be more relaxed, evening shows feel like more is at stake. And, well…”

“_And_?”

“_And_ I am usually more nervous when there’s someone I know in the audience, especially someone I admire.”

“Oh, who is going? Should I grab a pen and paper? Pester them for an autograph?” You’re half joking, just trying to lighten the mood.

“Very funny, Y/N.”

“You know I wouldn’t bug anyone. Come on, seriously, who is it?”

“You, darling.” It genuinely hadn't crossed your mind.

“What?”

“Performing in front of you, knowing you’re going to be there, will, it makes me- makes me feel as though I ought to do my best, to impress you.”

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“You _admire_ me?” You? Shakespeare, sure, Branagh, Olivier, fucking, you don’t know, Nelson Mandela or Stephen Hawking, sure. But you?

“Is that so hard for you to believe?”

“Um, yeah. It is.”

“Y/N, you are one of the smartest, most driven people I have ever met. Driven in a way that’s different from blind ambition. You want to do good, make the world a better place, relieve suffering. You actively pursue those things without expectation. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is invested like that without a public agenda.”

“You do good, too. You care deeply and passionately about-” You swear you weren’t fishing for a compliment, and your attempts to compliment him, bolster him, are falling a little flat and he interrupts you.

“No, not in the same way.” He looks at his plate and moves his food around with his fork. What lovely dinner conversation you’ve started. “I- my position allows me to draw attention to causes. But, I perform, I do not serve.” He says it in a defeating tone and you feel horrible.

“Tom-” you reach out and grab his hand. He gives it a squeeze back. He looks at you, taking in every detail. When his eyes meet yours, they delve deep. “Tom, you do so much more than that, surely you know. You bring so much happiness and joy to people. You help them to escape. You bring characters to life. Living, breathing icons, not just words on a page. Characters that people have thought of or admired, or obsessed over. It’s easy from the outside looking in to see someone’s situation differently from how they might and lose perspective. Research sounds important, but usually we just hope whatever direction we’re going is more forward than where we were. And sometimes it is, more often it’s not. And we have to start all over but a little further along than where we were. Endure the tedium and heartbreak too. I spent all of last week starring at a computer. I certainly didn’t feel like I was helping anyone then. I say all this because I can guarantee you at the stage door tonight you will see a hundred faces of people who appreciate who you are and what you do.”

“See, Y/N, you’re just so lovely when you say things like that. You are very impressive, even when you feel like you’re not. You are intelligent, kind, and you have a brightness about you that captivates people. You’re so unlike anyone I’ve ever been with, and well-“ He just stops and searches your eyes for something. You would say something but you’re mostly just shocked. Stunned into silence. “I look forward to seeing you, talking to you. I hope for- Well, I often find myself wondering why someone like you would want to spend time with me. Especially when- it’s not fair to you, everything that comes with it. I know how uncomfortable it makes you, I see how heavily it weighs on you, I can feel you tense up, and-” he breaks eye contact, and twiddles with his fork some more.

“Tom,” you move closer to him squeeze his hand a little tighter as if to comfort him. If only that were enough, “I had no idea, I honestly thought you had confused me with someone else. I’ve spent the last week wondering what you saw in me, why you asked me to wait for you in the bar, why you chased me to the elevator. I never thought you felt that way about me, let alone that you were unsure of me at all. I appreciate how caring and concerned you are. I do, I just, I’m not used to it, and you just seem so confident.“

“I’m an actor, there are certain…expectations.” You loosen your grip on his hand so it is just resting within his grasp. His words strike you differently. You know it isn’t what he meant, or how he intended it but, the thought nags at you. _Had he been acting this whole time? Was this a rehearsed speech? Lines from one of the scripts on the coffee table you dared not read for fear of invading his privacy? _He can feel you thinking, surely, withdrawing from him slightly.

“Tom, I need you to promise me something.” He looks at you with a curious, slightly deflated, expression on his face. “I need you to promise you’ll never ‘act’ like that with me. When it’s just us. I need you to show me the real you, not what you think I expect of you.” He’s quiet again, he makes you so nervous when he’s quiet. “If we’re going to do this, keep doing this, spending time together and whatever else, I want to be with the real you. I want to know when you’re nervous, if you want to talk, or complain, if you miss me. I need you to open that part of yourself up to me. I’m uncertain of so many things, I don’t want to feel uncertain about you.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.” You pause for a moment, readjusting your grasp on his hand, tightening tentatively, “I want to be that person for you. Someone you can go to, apart from… the ‘expectations’” He lifts your hand and presses it to his lips.

“I hope I will never give you cause to doubt me or be uncertain of how I feel.” You let go of his hand and lean to kiss him softly. He meets your lips with his. Your hand finds its way to his neck, your fingers slipping ever so slightly into his hair. His hand rests tenderly on your thigh. It is a sweet kiss, short, almost chaste. When you part your fingers run along his jaw, only just gliding over his lips. He doesn’t move a muscle as you study him. His jaw strong and relaxed. His lips slightly parted, his breath regular and silent. His eyes scanning yours and his brow thoroughly de-furrowed.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes lock on his.

“I want to be that person for you too. I just, I don’t want to rush you into anything. I want to make sure we take the time to, you know-“

“Tom, we hadn't even known each other for a week and you flew me to New York for a weekend. We may be past ‘rushing’ things.”

“You know what I mean. I want to keep this just us for now, for as long as you want, as long as we can.” You smile. It means a lot.

“Don’t worry, Tom. I’m in no hurry. And I think we both know that I don’t- Let’s say I will follow your lead on that.” He gives you a quick smile.

“I had better go soon if I’m going to get ready in time.”

“Right! Let’s get you to the show.”

You've made up your mind to walk with him to the theatre. Taking all the time with him you can get. He must sense your determination because he doesn't offer any things for you to do while you wait for the show while you wait for the check. Once he pays, you leave together walking side by side. You’re aware that the closer you get to the theatre, the more likely people are to recognize him and you meant what you said. You’re in no hurry when it comes to public attention. You wished it wasn’t something you had to consider. That it was just you and him. No pressure, no worries. You can’t have everything, and for now walking with Tom, the real him- who he is when no one else is watching, is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was worth the wait! I wanted to have it up over the weekend for to celebrate 1 year of this story (moving at a very glacial pace), but it was a little harder to write. A special thank you to those of you who have been reading along and patiently waiting all this time!
> 
> As always thoughts, ideas, and feedback welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> So it' my first fic, my first rpf, my first reader, my first anything. Thoughts, ideas, and feedback welcome!


End file.
